


like i know that we've been right here before (as i'm watching this unfold)

by iamalekza



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Ghost Shenanigans, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Light Hurt/Comfort, but just one dead person, it's happy I promise, jamie can see dead people, somehow everyone is cool with this, who happens to be super pretty and funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamalekza/pseuds/iamalekza
Summary: Jamie's life is deliciously, perfectly boring—until she meets a ghost at a bus stop and thinks, perhaps, she's losing her mind working from sunrise to sunset tending to rich people's plants (not that she would complain about the plants, mind). Dani has been wandering the streets, completely unseen, for the past two years until a frustrated voice asks her if she can move a bit to the left because she happens to be hogging the entire seat.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Jamie, Dani Clayton/Jamie, Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma
Comments: 379
Kudos: 433





	1. show me where nobody goes / i'm lost in your kaleidoscope (you read me like a horoscope / you lean into me like you know)

The first day Jamie meets Dani, it's at a bus stop.

Her truck, as much as she loves the shambling hunk of junk, had greeted her that morning with such a displeased noise that she spent two hours trying to get it in for repairs. Something or another about traffic, demand, and what have you; her day didn't start well, and it only got worse the further the clock ticked. Because she was late, she couldn't drop by her favorite corner café for a morning brew and ended up in a spoiled mood for the better half of her morning until Hannah, god bless that woman, offered to make her a cuppa while she was elbow-deep in soil. By the time she finished one garden, she was off to the next, her entire schedule pushed back by the two hours she wasted that morning, much to the irritation of her afternoon employer who, from the very bottom of her heart, could fuck right off, thank you very much.

So it's with a displeased curl to her face that Jamie reaches the bus stop at sunset, furiously typing at her phone and shooting off a quick message to Owen and begging desperately for a distraction, perhaps a night at the pub below her apartment, until she can forget the tense knots buried deep in the flesh of her shoulders. Her eyes wander up, eyeing the seat before narrowing imperceptibly at the woman sitting right in the middle of the slab of wood like she owns the damn thing. A spike of irritation scratches at the back of her throat, lips pressing together, and Jamie marches on until she's standing off to the woman's side, who seems to be looking away.

"Hey, 'scuse me, can you move a smidge? I'd like to sit down too, thanks," she says with a strained tone, eyes falling back to the screen of her phone and reading Owen's confirmation of a much-needed night out. Nothing left to say, she locks her phone and tucks it into the side-pocket of her overalls and looks back up to see if the woman has moved from hogging the seat... only to find her staring, open-mouthed, blue eyes looking completely perplexed.

"You can see me?"

Confusion causes Jamie's brow to furrow, forming creases above the bridge of her nose. "Pardon?"

"You—you can see me? As in, _see me_ , see me?"

"Yeah..?" Jamie watches as those blue eyes widen, takes the time to squint at the woman who seems so convinced that perhaps Jamie shouldn't have. Her blonde hair is half pulled out of her face, with the bottom portion spilling across her denim-clad shoulders. She's dressed simply, with a blue jean jacket and a white shirt and a simple skirt to her knees, and Jamie belatedly realizes that the woman is pretty, if not a little weird. "Blonde hair, blue jacket, got the accent of an American—I'm sorry, why wouldn't I be able to see you? You're sitting right there."

The woman looks at her, looks at her for a long time that Jamie starts shifting from one foot to another uncomfortably, until she responds with, perhaps, the most vexing thing Jamie has ever heard since popping out into the world.

"Because I'm dead."

Jamie's mouth opens, shuts, opens again before pressing together for good, her eyebrows lowering further on her face until she thinks she might look like she'd just swallowed a bug. "You— _what_?"

Salvation comes at the sound of the bus pulling up beside them, and Jamie wonders if all the hours she's spent in the sun is starting to meddle with her mind. She loves the sun, but this? This is going too far, she thinks. Jamie stares at the woman for a moment longer, who looks about as bemused as her, the air crackling with _something_ between them that Jamie can't quite pinpoint, and then she's shaking her head and making her way up the bus' steps, refusing to look at the woman over her shoulder again. It isn't until she's found a seat near the back of the hall that she realizes the woman hadn't followed her on board; she isn't sure whether she should be concerned or relieved. In the end, Jamie leans forward to peer out of the window and back at the bus stop, wondering what's keeping the strange woman there, but an empty seat greets her.

"Phenomenal," Jamie mutters under her breath, leaning back and rubbing the heels of her palms across her eyes. "Phenomenal, I'm losing my goddamn mind."

[ 👻 ]

"So, you're telling me a woman just outright told you she was dead?"

Jamie groans into her palm, elbow propped up against the bar, and nods dejectedly as Owen gives her a look that _should_ be a little judgemental but isn't, because Owen is far too nice like that (despite his terrible attempt at humour).

"Yeah," she responds, sounding far too exasperated than should be on a Thursday night. "Bloody Americans, getting prettier _and_ weirder by the day."

"You didn't mention she was pretty in your texts," Owen teases, and she sees his eyes glimmer amusedly as she takes a long pull of her beer to drown out the words.

"Well," she starts after, pressing the back of her wrist against her mouth and grimacing as the cheap taste lingers on her tongue. "Might've missed mentioning that, mate, you know—too busy trying not to freak out about the whole dead part, yeah?"

"Maybe she meant it metaphorically," he offers kindly, and Jamie can only wish that his intuition is right. "Maybe, when she said she was dead, she's saying... she's dead-tired?"

"I think that's about the only explanation we're going to get," Jamie relents with a sigh, taking another swig of her drink and wondering why she even bothers with the pub's poor excuse for alcohol (although she knows the answer is because it's cheap, and since she rents the flat upstairs, it's the most convenient place to have a drink without having to haul her drunk arse down several blocks). "Day's been shit, you know, feels like that woman was just the final nail in the coffin for me. I think I need to retire."

"Jamie Taylor, retiring?" Owen's moustache quivers, and it's then that Jamie realizes what he's about to say next, feigning horror as he plows on like a bull gone wild. "Over my dead body."

"Fuck's sake, Sharma! You could've just stuck a finger in my eye and that would've done me in all the same."

"And leave me alone to fend for myself in this cruel world? That would—"

" _Don't—_ "

"—kill me!"

Jamie's tired sigh sends Owen spiraling into a fit of laughter. "Yeah, laugh it all out, hope your breath doesn't choke you on the way out," she mutters into the rim of her mug, but the smirk on her face betrays the look of annoyance she's trying to wear, and Owen knows that perhaps a bit too well. "Really, though, my life is perfectly fine being boring. Last thing I need is anything that might disrupt that. That's just too much entertainment."

"Oh, Jamie," Owen says when he finally recedes from his humour-high, reaching over to place a well-meaning hand on her shoulder. "I think a good distraction is _exactly_ what you need. You've been doing the same thing over and over again for five years now—in fact, Hannah has been worrying about that, you know. She thinks you need a little more excitement in your life."

"Excitement, sure. Bizarre Americans claiming that they've long since left the living? I draw the line at that, I think." Jamie's voice wanders off, thinking back to the stranger and the bus stop and the empty seat she had left behind. She had been there, Jamie's sure, and the more she thinks about it, the more the woman's features grow more defined in her mind: blonde hair, blue eyes, politely confused smile, a small quirk of her brow—pretty, Jamie admits again, and maybe Owen's right? Maybe it had been metaphorical, and maybe Jamie overreacted, and maybe she was just being nice, and maybe... _maybe..._ "Moment's passed now though, doubt I'll see her again if she's been in this shit town and I've only seen her now."

"Ah, but you never know, my friend," her friend responds, faking a mysterious tone of voice as he peers at her over the top of his drink. "Fate has a funny way of making things happen."

"That's bull," she cuts in, causing him to laugh even more. "But thanks for keeping me company, Sharma. If fate's real, maybe I can cut it some slack since it seems to have sent me the best and worst friend to have. Another round?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic title is from the song 'my whole life' by alina baraz, chapter title is from the song 'endlessly' by the same artist
> 
> i haven't written anything, much less fanfictions, in such a long time so i'm dreadfully sorry for whatever the hell this mess is, but—hello! i'm obsessed! so have a random fic i happened upon when i was trying not to collapse from sheer boredom! no beta, we die like my desire to do anything ever.
> 
> edit: it's been only an hour, i think, since i started and posted this and i've already written a second and third... jeez


	2. patience and communication, i'm still learning those / took a couple heartbreaks and some tears for me to grow (and now that i grew / i'm finally ready for you)

The next day comes easier than the one before.

With her truck stuck in the shop for repairs, Jamie wakes up earlier than usual to prepare for the commute to the Wingraves' Manor, and she's able to start her gardening bright and early with a cuppa to-go and a quick bite to eat, courtesy of Owen's presence at the home of their mutual employer and Hannah's insistence to join them. She listens quietly as Flora and Miles start to recount another ghost story, entirely made-up but entertaining all the same, before checking the time and politely placing the nearly-empty cup in the sink, preparing for the day. She washes it too, just to lessen Hannah's workload, when the woman in question lingers behind her, poised with a drying rag.

"Owen's told me quite an interesting story," Hannah starts as she begins drying the cup and returning it to wherever she plucked it from. Jamie leans back against the counter, arms crossed, and nods subtly, eyes straying to Owen and the children before returning to her friend.

"Shared that, hasn't he?"

"Mm-hm. He also shared that you weren't sure what to make of it."

"How could I? Here's a woman saying she's dead as she hogs the entire bus stop—I mean, if she wanted the seat to herself, she could've just said so," Jamie murmurs with a shrug, brows knitting together as she's reminded of the awkward encounter a day prior. She'd spent much of her night pouring over the interaction, wondering if Owen's suggestion had been right, and it's _Jamie_ who had been the weird one, acting all stupidly stunned as the stranger lamented over her state-of-being. "I dunno, Hannah. It was weird. It _felt_ weird. I reckon I must've just been tired and hearing things."

Hannah hums a pondering sound. "Well, if ever you find yourself in need of someone to talk to, if you think it's the work that's got you hearing things, you know I'm here. Owen and Rebecca, too. Maybe not Peter, though."

"Better not mention that name again while I'm here," Jamie warns with a smirk. "If the bus stop girl isn't dead, Peter sure as hell will be, if he ever bothers to show his face here again, the sodding idiot."

"Please," Hannah laughs, "I don't think he's recovered from the last time you gave him an earful."

[ 👻 ]

"You're here!"

Jamie looks up from her phone, squinting against the amber sunset as she finds the source of the greeting, although the accent should have given it away immediately. The woman is on the bench again, but she's seated more to the side now, clearly remembering their interaction from the day before. "Oh. Hey."

"Don't sound so happy to see me," the woman jokes, patting the space next to her and Jamie has half the mind to ignore the invitation, but her conversation with Owen echoes in her ears and suddenly she _is_ sitting down, careful to keep a few inches of distance between them. "So sorry for freaking you out yesterday. It's not every day someone can see me."

"You're still on about that?" Jamie slips her phone into her jacket pocket, her hands following soon after, swallowed up by its depths because she's desperate not to fiddle with them. She looks at the woman over her shoulder and sucks at her teeth curiously. She offers, almost hopefully so, "Because you feel invisible in this town?"

"No, silly," the woman responds with a light laugh. "I'm a ghost."

"You're a what now?"

"A ghost. You know... dead people walking the earth, that sorta thing." Jamie can already feel her head pounding. "But this ghost has a name, and it's Dani."

"Sorry, I'm—what? You're an actual... that's the most..." Jamie huffs. "Are you okay?"

"Oh. Oh, yes, I'm fine!" The implication seems to fly past the woman's, Dani's, head. "I mean, as fine as a ghost could be, I guess. Maybe a little bored—"

"You're an actual ghost?" The sound Jamie makes is something caught between white-hot panic and confused laughter. "I'm sorry, but that's—ghosts aren't real."

"If ghosts aren't real, can I do this?"

And suddenly the woman is gone.

 _Fuck._ Something akin to fear builds in the back of Jamie's throat as her head whirls around, trying to find wherever the woman could have gone because she couldn't have possibly disappeared into thin air like that, could she? But there's no one, absolutely no one next to her, and—shit, she's starting to feel a bit faint, tugging on the collar of her jacket to ease some air into her chest. _Fucking—what the actual—Christ, am I still drunk or what?_

"Over here!" Jamie's eyes snap to the opposite side of the street, landing on Dani. Dani, who's wearing the same outfit she'd been wearing the day before, desperately trying to catch the attention of the couple passing by, except they don't seem to even notice that she's there. Jamie watches, almost comically stunned, as Dani holds up one hand, as if to say she has one more trick up her sleeve, and she runs _through_ the couple, her figure turning smokey and nearly transparent until they've left the space she occupies. When she rematerializes, it's with a proud grin on her face, and Jamie immediately traps a patch of skin on her wrist between the nails of her forefinger and thumb until the pain registers in her brain.

"Shit," she curses, looking down at where she's pinched too hard. _Yep, definitely awake, maybe a bit delirious._ Jamie looks up, but finds that the woman, the _ghost_ , seems to have disappeared again.

"So?" The voice pops up from beside her, and Jamie feels her entire body jolt in surprise as she turns and finds Dani there, sitting innocently, as if she'd never left in the first place. "What do you think? Pretty cool, huh?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, you're a ghost," comes Jamie's startled response, the words blurring together in a single exhale.

"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to tell you," the woman laughs, rolling her eyes, like it's the most normal thing in the world and, fuck, there goes the 'boring' aspect of Jamie's life, slipping past her fingers the way Dani slipped past the poor couple on the street, who has since reached the next block over, completely oblivious to her situation. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I reckon I am, considering I just saw people walk right through you," Jamie drawls sarcastically, burying her face in her palms. She makes a loud groan, rubs her face a little too hard, looks up again to find that Dani's still there. "How is this even possible?"

"You tell me. I've been wandering this bus stop for two years with no one even knowing I'm here, so this—" Jamie watches as Dani's finger points to the both of them. "—this is entirely new to me too. Although, I guess it's kinda nice? It's nice being able to talk to someone again."

Something twinges in Jamie's chest.

"That's—that's... I'm sorry, that sounds horrible," is all that she can say, hands dropping from her face to land in her lap, absently picking at the skin around her nails. "Two years? You've been here two years and nobody's seen you?"

"For the most part," Dani answers, chest deflating as she tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "I mean, some kids usually see me, because kids are perceptive like that but... but never for long, and nobody listens to them anyway. It's fine, though. Kids are fun to talk to, anyway."

"Right," Jamie half-agrees awkwardly, turning at the sound of the bus rounding the corner. "That's my... uh, that's my cue? I better trot on home."

"Oh." There it is again. Something poking in Jamie's chest from the sound of the ghost's disappointment. "Oh, well, will you be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Jamie answers immediately, then belatedly wonders why. She shrugs it off after a second, figuring that since she's already said it, she might as well be completely honest. To a fucking ghost. That only Jamie can see. "Yeah, my truck's in the shop so I'll be here for three weeks, I think, except Sundays."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

There's a hopeful lilt to Dani's voice and for a split-second, for a heartbeat, everything feels— _normal_. It feels like Jamie's saying good-bye to a perfectly normal person sitting on the bench of a bus stop.

"Yeah," Jamie says again, peering over her shoulders as the bus rolls to a stop and open its doors, beckoning her in. The driver looks at her expectantly, never seeing Dani, and all Jamie could do without looking crazy herself is to flash the blonde woman a small smile in farewell. The grin she receives back is brilliant, almost blindingly so, and for the third time, she feels something prod at her chest—something begging for her attention, but she swallows and tunes it out, turning around on her heel and marching into the vehicle.

When she finds her seat at the back, she takes another look at the bench.

Dani's not there.

 _Fuck me._ With her poorly-acquired adrenaline finally seeping out of her bloodstream, Jamie sags into her seat, rubbing at her eyes until she sees starts in the back of her lids. _I'm losing my goddamn mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "until i met you" by alina baraz
> 
> i'm surprised how quickly y'all have left your kudos on this fic, and i appreciate it from the bottom of my heart, so i got a little excited and posted the next chapter. to be honest, since posting this, i've already written up to chapter four or five, so we've got quite a buffer going. i'm still trying to figure out a posting schedule, though.
> 
> if you've got time, please don't hesitate to leave a comment too, those are like nectar and ambrosia to me—not that i'm forcing anyone, no need to worry if you aren't feeling it, but it'll help me write a bit more knowing that people are finding some semblance of fluffy amusement in this chaotic mess as much as i am writing it


	3. anybody else i'd be gone by now / doesn't really matter, all that really matters (second i'm with you, all my love pour out, serve it on a platter)

When Jamie reaches the bus stop on the third day, she tries not to feel a little disappointed to see that it's barren of both people and ghosts.

She doesn't understand it—she should be happy, shouldn't she, that the ghost has moved on from trying to fill Jamie's afternoon with shit she's never even bothered to consider before? Perhaps, after some time, Jamie can convince herself that it had been nothing more than a fever-dream, a trick of the mind, or even living proof that Jamie's had enough of the world and should call both of her employers and ask for a paid vacation after all the god's bloody work she's done for their gardens... but her body deflates at the emptiness, pulling air out of her lungs in a sigh. Fine, she'll admit it to herself, the woman was pretty interesting, all things considered. Jamie would have liked to get to know her a bit more, maybe, but the bus stop is empty and Jamie is alone on the bench and—

Her eyes land on the spot across the street, finding a familiar blonde figure hanging back from a small family that's walking past. Everybody seems to be ignoring her, except for the crying infant the mother is holding in her arms... the crying infant that quickly falls quiet as Dani starts speaking animatedly, hands forging paths across the air as she trails slowly behind them. The child's eyes are locked on her, right on her, and it doesn't take long for a smile to spread across its face, followed by a sharp trill of laughter. Jamie watches, completely awed, as Dani continues speaking something she can't hear, but it's clear the infant is overjoyed by it, laughing until the mother pats it gently on the back, likely confused but otherwise relieved that the crying has been replaced by something merry.

Seemingly satisfied with her work, Dani crosses the street, and Jamie sees her blue eyes light up to see that she's there.

"Hey! Hey, I'm so glad you're here," Dani greets, stopping directly in front of Jamie.

"You a regular Mary Poppins or something?" At Dani's confused look, Jamie motions to the receding figure of the family. "I've never seen a crying child be consoled that quickly."

"It's a talent," Dani answers with an embarrassed laugh, finally plopping down next to her. For a fleeting moment, Jamie thinks she can feel the bench respond to the added weight, but she figures it must be a trick of the mind. "And a hard-earned one at that. I was in education, before... well, you know, before I became this. I taught children."

"Huh," Jamie says, mulling over the idea of seeing the blonde woman in front of a classroom of grubby hands and then very quickly finding herself nodding at the image. "Huh, yeah, I can see it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You do have that Poppins thing going on," Jamie relents with a resolute nod of her head, flashing Dani a grin when she sees the blonde woman flush at the comment. She doesn't even realize that she should question how a ghost could blush. "So, what've you been up to? Haunting a couple houses here and there, I reckon?"

"Ah, no, I don't usually do the whole haunting thing," Dani answers, wringing the sleeves of her jacket—a different jacket, Jamie recognizes a little too late, a purple piece with some bits of fur over a soft, lavender sweater and brown pants. "No, mostly I just wander around."

"You wander the streets for twenty-four hours a day?"

"No—I mean—yes, when I'm not sleeping."

"Ghosts _sleep_?" It's only after the confused exclamation that Jamie realizes she sounds even more vexed than when she'd found out she was talking to an _actual_ ghost.

"You know, it confused me too, I think," Dani agrees with a nod of her head. Jamie looks at her, arching an eyebrow, watching as Dani follows through with an explanation. "I mean—I can't exactly remember a lot about when I first became a ghost. Or how. I can't remember how I—you know—and the few days afterward. I just... I do. Sleep, I mean."

"On... on a bed?"

"I wish." Dani's laughing, and Jamie doesn't know whether she's amused or sorry for her. "No, I kind of just... sleep wherever? It's not like anyone's going to point a finger at me and tell me I can't sleep there, although I have had very awkward experiences of waking up and seeing someone sitting where my stomach should be."

"Interesting," Jamie comments, slouching against the back of the bench and taking out a cigarette. She _should_ be freaking out. She _should_ be running for the hills, screaming bloody murder about the pretty blonde ghost that haunts her local bus stop. She _should_ be doing literally anything else other than lighting the tip of her cigarette, tucking her lighter away, and taking a thoughtful puff of the smoke like her entire world, and her understanding of how it works, hadn't just been upturned and violently wrung like a battered saltshaker. "So you just wake up and watch people, is that it?"

"Pretty much, yeah!" Dani seems to hesitate afterward, sinking into her seat. "That sounded less creepy in my head. Sometimes I read over their shoulders—read their books or their magazines if they have any, or lean in close to listen to their music—I... that still sounds creepy, doesn't it?"

"A little, but if I were a ghost, I'd probably do the same," Jamie offers with a small chuckle, flashing the fretting ghost a comforting smile. From there, they fall into an easy silence, watching the empty road as Jamie continues polishing off her cigarette. It's... odd. It's odd, how perfectly normal and perfectly boring it feels to simply sit there with a decidedly not-normal and not-boring ghost, and it's odd how Jamie can no longer find it in her chest to be too worried about it. Perhaps it's because of Dani's easy smile, or the insights Dani offers to what life as a ghost must be like, or the casual way Dani speaks like they've been friends for far longer than either of them realize.

"You know," Dani starts as Jamie crushes the cigarette under her boot before slipping it into the garbage can an arm's length to her left. "I never got your name."

Giving a ghost your name sounds like such an odd thing, but the thought barely registers.

"Jamie Taylor," comes the answer, a hand offered almost mindlessly towards the ghost. "And you're Dani..?"

"Clayton, Dani Clayton," Dani answers, a bright look spilling across her face before twisting to confusion as she eyes the hand between them. Jamie realizes that Dani probably can't even touch her hand, and she makes a move to tuck it away awkwardly when— Dani reaches for it, brushes her fingertips against Jamie's palm, and Jamie's body _jolts_ as something cold, then something warm, barely a whisper of a touch but _there_ brushes against her skin. Dani pulls her hand back like she's been burned, and they stare at each other, wide-eyed, as they process its lingering aftereffects.

"What..." Jamie's words are breathless. "What was that?"

"I don't know," Dani answers, staring intently at the hand she'd used before looking back up at Jamie. There's something in her eyes, _something_ , Jamie isn't quite sure what it is, but she feels a pleasant buzz in her chest and she wonders what it means. "I've never had that happen before."

"I'd say me either but, hey, a week ago, I would've thought ghosts were just a mum's poor attempt at schooling her children to be more disciplined," Jamie comments, a piss-poor attempt at easing the crackling tension that has formed, but she sighs in relief when it seems to do the trick nonetheless, subconsciously preening at the soft giggle slipping through Dani's lips. "If I can have my mind thrown for a loop, then so can you, Poppins."

There it is again. A soft flush spilling across the ghost's cheeks at the nickname. Jamie can't help, against what she thinks might be something closer to 'better judgment', the insufferable smirk on her face.

"Don't mind?"

Dani doesn't answer, just ducks her head down shyly. Jamie tries not to melt at the sight of it.

"You're not so bad, you know, for a ghost."

Dani shoots a teasing glance at Jamie, whose body burns pleasantly from the attention. "You're only saying that so I don't follow you to your house and haunt it," she accuses, playful in the slide of her voice, and Jamie finds herself responding with a quick bubble of laughter.

"Red-handed!" Jamie holds both hands up, palms out in an apologetic gesture. "Although, I dunno, Poppins, if you haunted my house, it'd be a lot less lonely—"

Jamie falls to a halt then, feeling her sense of self slip past her fingers; the thing about her is that she never says anything about her life, ever. Never to anyone who isn't Hannah, who isn't Owen, who isn't Rebecca. She likes her life nice, simple, and private, and now that nice and simple are completely out of the question, she's only left with private.

Private, that she risks tossing away in favor of spending more time with a ghost, of all things, and it's this thought that causes Jamie's thoughts to come to a jarring, break-neck halt.

"Hey?" Dani's voice pierces through the whirlwind of worried thoughts burning in Jamie's mind like a beacon of light. Something warm brushes against the back of her fist, clenched tightly in her lap, and Jamie looks up to see the problem in question—the problem, looking at her with such a level of concern that Jamie feels like she might get lost in it.

"I—" Her head swivels at the sound of the coming bus. Half of her is frustrated that it's perfectly on time, the other relieved. "Sorry, this is just... a lot? It's a lot to take in, I have to go."

"Oh."

The sound nearly rends her in two.

Jamie smiles ruefully, hoping that it's enough to take enough of the sting out (and she doesn't understand it, doesn't understand why she's so wary of hurting the poor girl— _the ghost_ , she reminds herself, _the ghost from the bus stop_ ). "There are other days," she reassures, speaking slightly over her shoulder, conscious that the bus will be pulling up any time soon. "There will be other days."

"You promise?"

This is crazy. It's absolutely insane. Here, Jamie stands, halfway turned back to the bench, talking and grinning at a ghost who nobody else could see but her. She should run, a fragment of her mind worries, she should run and never look back, she should—

"I promise."

Without another look back, Jamie ducks into the bus as soon as it opens its doors for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that goddamn bus...
> 
> chapter title is from the song "more than enough" by alina baraz
> 
> i started writing this, for real, not even a breath after i made the first and second one; admittedly, i've made some changes since. i'm still trying to figure out the pacing, how quickly everything falls into place, and how i can give everyone some exposition without saying "hey, okay, so let me explain..." so here we are.
> 
> i swear i do have a life (no i don't) outside of this, i'm just really—i just can't resist these two. anyways! thank you to everyone! catch me slipping the show's lines into the fic, kind of like easter eggs, because there are some pretty damn good ones i can't resist cheekily putting into the chapters


	4. i make the space, make the space for you / and you rearrange when i need you to

Sunday brings no sense of joy or excitement.

Dani, surprisingly aware of the days of the week for someone who's supposed to be dead, wakes with cold dread for the day to come—a boring day, which happens to be one of the worst days a ghost could have. Her new friend doesn't work on Sundays, Jamie had mentioned. She likely wouldn't be making any appearances at what Dani's very quickly considering to be her favorite place in the world:

The bus stop.

The bus stop, on its own, is completely uninteresting. With its flaking yellow paint and jibberish tags, it hadn't exactly been Dani's choice to visit it.

Not really. Not at first.

When Dani had first come to her senses, dead amongst the living, she found that her instincts pulled her to key places around the town. The pull was never anything forced, not usually, but it was enough to send her skin itching with curiosity, and then she was following the same path for days, weeks, _months_ after, because it was easier and it was simpler and Dani, who had still been processing the fact that she was _dead_ , didn't have enough will-power to question it.

So Dani wakes on a Sunday, curled up on a blessedly empty park bench but to a horribly barren day, stretching her limbs more out of routine than any lingering pulled muscles, because it's not like she could actually still _pull_ one. She lingers for a few moments, blinking blearily at the soulless field beyond, before getting up on her feet and walking along the footpath, following the gentle tug of her gut. There's only a handful of joggers out and about, minding their own business with their earbuds plugged in, and Dani drifts after them a few times until each song that has drawn her closer comes to an end. She repeats this until her gut tries to pull her away, some time past nine, and she follows it out of the park and onto the street.

She reaches a coffee shop around the corner, a cozy looking place run by a small family, and her fingers mimic pressing against the glass. She still keeps a thin wall of air between her and the material, however, uninterested in breaching a decidedly _human_ establishment with her ghostly form. If the glass fogs a little at her presence, nobody seems to notice, and she idly watches on.

Seconds, minutes, hours tick by. Time no longer holds her captive. She exists outside of it, watching as it speeds up and slows down and speeds up again, never hurrying because mortality—beautiful, fleeting, _fragile_ mortality—has long since been stolen from her.

She follows no time, only her gut, waiting for the tell-tale tug, and when it comes, she's off again, walking down the winding streets until she finds herself lingering in front of a tall building whose relevance is completely lost to her. Again, she waits only by the doors, observing people as they come and they go; a man chatters angrily into his phone, a woman enters the establishment from a car worth more than Dani's life savings (well, when she still had them), a young child chases after their mother before stopping— _staring_ —and Dani offers a little wave like she isn't actually dead. The child waves back, runs off again, and Dani is alone once more.

She stays there until noon, barely noticing the time passing by, until her feet are leading her to a restaurant that, quite honestly, looks like it's trying to be fancier than it's actually worth.

It's _here_ that things are always different. Where the others are suggestive tugs, anywhere near the restaurant can only be described as a violent pull in two different directions; it feels like a hand is pulling her inside, but her body is fearfully trying to run away. It never gets easy, the way her body tenses under its spell, the way her body acts as if it is, quite literally, about to be torn at the seams... but Dani withstands it, because she has before, and weathers out the storm until one hand gives, the one trying to pull her further in, and she's snapped violently towards the bus stop.

The bus stop, on its own, is completely uninteresting—and, if she's really being honest with herself, the worst sight of all.

Until Jamie came.

Until Jamie came with her curious eyes and her polite smile and the smug little tug at the corner of her lips that sends life flooding back into Dani's veins like a drug. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't know where to even begin comprehending it. All she knows is that she feels a little more human, a little more _here_ , whenever Jamie so much as casts a glance at her or speaks her way. It's as if she's lived the past two years completely untethered and at the mercy of the wind until Jamie reached out—until Jamie reached out and _pulled her down_ and held her close and kept her _here_...

But Jamie _isn't_ here, and Dani collapses back into the empty bench, head falling into her waiting hands. One would think a ghost would be safe from human things like _headaches_ , but a particularly wrathful one erupts at the space between her temples, causing blinding lights to spiral behind her closed eyelids. It's not new. It always happens here, _here_ , when she's sitting by herself at the bus stop. Something must have happened here, she knows, fears that maybe the bus stop is where she had lost her life, but no amount of thinking gives her any answers. Every time she reaches deep into her memories, or whatever of those she had left, something bites back from the darkness and sends her reeling, hurting, groaning in agony like angry teeth had sunk into her—

"You alright, Poppins?"

All at once, the strain ebbs away, and Dani looks up from where she'd held her head in her grasp to find Jamie standing awkwardly to the side, clutching a red thermos in one hand and a half-finished cigarette in the other.

"Hey," Dani greets, a little breathless, "Hey, I—I thought you wouldn't be here on Sundays?"

"Yeah, I wasn't supposed to," Jamie answers with a small smile, taking a seat beside her and putting the thermos between her knees to unscrew the cap with her free hand. "But I figured, rough day, maybe Poppins might fancy a chat."

Dani's heart does a funny little pirouette in her chest.

"You came all the way out here to talk to me?"

"Well, s'not like I knew where else to find you." Jamie faces forward, at the empty street across from them, bringing the thermos to her lips for a quiet sip. She seems to be mulling something over, and Dani waits patiently for her to continue, tucking her fingers into the sleeves of yesterday's sweater... was it yesterday? Was it the other day? Perhaps it was from two years ago, from her life before death. "I mean, to be honest, I wasn't entirely sure you'd be here, either. It was mostly just guess-work and a heaping pound of hope."

"That's sweet," Dani says, because it _is_ , and nobody has ever done such a gesture in her—well, she couldn't exactly say _in her life_ , now, could she? "You said you had a rough day..? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's going perfectly," comes Jamie's sardonic answer, brushing her mouth with the back of her fist and then taking another mouthful to replace the drop of _something_ lingering on her upper lip. Tea, maybe. "Damn truck's costing more to fix than I thought. I've been taking care of that bloody thing for nearly half my life, but oh! The tiniest fuckin' problem, right, and suddenly it's the end of the world. Swear on my life, that truck was manufactured not to be driven but to drive _me_ to my wit's end."

Perhaps it's the way Jamie's cursing at the truck like it's a living, breathing nuisance, or perhaps it's the way Jamie's sliding a smirk her way that causes Dani to burst out into laughter, her earlier woes completely forgotten, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep the sound contained.

"Laugh all you want, Poppins, but I promise you the truck has it out for me," Jamie offers in false offense, and her expression is teasing and playful—until something more serious takes hold. Is it concern? "Now, mind telling me what had your mind in a tizzy before I got here?"

As the last of her laughter bubbles out, Dani wonders whether just how much she can tell her new friend about the intricacies of ghost life without making her run away for good. She quickly realizes, however, that for all the weirdness the situation must pose, Jamie is still _here_ , on the fourth day, talking to her like it's the most normal thing in the world. Jamie, for all her brief flashes of fear, worry, and _am I losing my mind_ , has sought her out after a rough day, and the thought eases the steel she's been feeling clamped onto her shoulders.

"I—" Better warn her, at least. "It's ghost stuff?"

"Better that than boy stuff," Jamie comments, grinning impishly before taking another drink, taking her time to swallow. "Really, though, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but—but I'm here to listen, if it's worth anything."

Dani _wants_ to say it's worth everything, and then some.

"It's this place." Dani makes a wide gesture, motioning to the old, yellow bus stop in its entirety. "Every time I come here alone, it feels... different. Crushing. Like it's going to eat me alive, and I don't understand _why_ that is, only that it happens. It keeps happening."

"Shit, Poppins, why come here at all then?"

The smoke curls from Jamie's mouth and into the air.

"Because I—" Dani stops, furrows her eyebrows, worries her lower lip between her teeth. "Something always pulls me here. Pulls me places. I don't know—it's not _forcing_ me, but I can't really think of anywhere else to go outside of Bly."

"Kind of like the world's worst day tour," Jamie comments, and Dani's cheeks ache a bit from smiling.

"The very worst," Dani agrees. "I know I'm not forced to follow that path but... I don't know anywhere else, and it's not like I make a habit of waltzing into other people's properties. Like I said, haunting houses isn't usually my thing."

"Who said you had to haunt them?"

There's something there, a glimmer in Jamie's eyes, pushing closer and closer to the surface until they're beaming with it. Dani can only watch, struck by fascination, as Jamie's lips pull into a resolute grin, as if she's decided on something that she would loathe to take back, even before it leaves her mouth. It's like watching a new world being sculpted from nothing.

"Do you wanna see the gardens I work at?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow, no bus today? that's new
> 
> chapter title is from the song "trust" by alina baraz
> 
> me: you know, it'll be easier if we keep the POV to jamie. that way, i don't have to come up with some way to explain whatever the hell dani's life is like as a ghost  
> also me, at 3AM last night: OKAY BITCH BUT IMAGINE—


	5. look at how far we got, i would of never thought / look all around you, lucky i found you

"Do you wanna see the gardens I work at?"

The offer is out, and Jamie doesn't even try to stop herself, doesn't even feel an ounce of regret at the invitation warms the air between them. Dani's smiling, as wide and as brilliant and as blinding as ever, and the certainty she'd felt before she made the offer only grows stronger in her grasp. She had spent too long, not enough, _too long_ trying to come up with the invitation that she doesn't let herself feel the least bit concerned about it, not with _Dani_ , who's looking at her with eyes so soft that Jamie swears she can feel it wrapping around her like a blanket.

"'Sides," she continues, scratching at the back of her neck, eyebrows knitting together. "It'll be nice to have some company tending to the flowers, I think. Better talking to a ghost than talking to myself. Plus, you can meet my friends—" At Dani's arched eyebrows, Jamie blinks slowly, belatedly realizing what she's said, before correcting herself with a self-admonishing chuckle. "Well, you can _see_ them, I guess, and I think you would get along pretty well with them if you could."

Dani's response comes automatically.

"I'd love to, Jamie."

It's as if Dani's brilliance is permeating through her skin and casting light into all of the shadowy cracks and crevices that Jamie bears on her skin or otherwise. Every single nook and cranny, every ridge and sinew, bathed in a light like flowers growing in the abyss of a broken home—stubbornly reaching for the spaces where the golden light spills into the darkness.

Jamie is the flower, stuck in the dark but far too stubborn to die; Dani is the sun, unabashedly beaming into the darkness below.

Jamie is alive; Dani is dead.

Funny how that works.

"Well, that's settled then," Jamie says, flicking the last of her cigarette into the bin and wiping the palm of her hands on her jeans. "We're going to the happiest place on earth."

Dani giggles, feigns innocence. "Disney?"

"Disney wouldn't hold a candle to Bly Manor."

They share a smile in the shelter of the old bus stop and for a fleeting moment, fleeting but _there_ , it's like talking to a person she's known forever. She's considered it before, how easily conversation comes between her and Dani, despite the fact that everything about their situation shouldn't be _easy,_ to begin with. Details like Jamie liking her life simple, Dani being a ghost, Jamie talking to thin air in the eyes of literally anybody else that could possibly stumble upon the scene—easy should be the very _last_ thing it could be, but _it is_ , and it's exhilarating as much as it is frightening. Less so because of the whole dead aspect, she realizes, and more so because of how quickly Jamie grows comfortable with the idea.

"Bly Manor..." Jamie watches as Dani presses a finger to her bottom lip, tapping a slow rhythm that draws her gaze to where it meets skin. "Bly Manor, I think I've heard of that name before."

"I wouldn't be surprised, to be honest. Biggest house in Bly. Owned by a rich bloke named Henry Wingrave?"

"Wingrave!" Dani snaps her fingers. "Yes, that's familiar—I don't know in what context, but it's there, somewhere. Oh, if only I could just _remember_..."

"We'll get there when we get there, Poppins," Jamie urges softly, reaching over to lower the hand Dani's threaded through her hair before stopping, grinning sheepishly at the realization that she had, once again, forgotten that she can't really _touch_ her fretting companion. The gesture hits home anyway, Dani lowering her palms into her lap and, instead, picking at the hem of her skirt. Less destructive. "Henry's not the kind of person you should be wasting your time remembering anyway. Focuses too much on his job. Barely goes home most weeks to check in on the kids."

"Kids?" Dani's eyes light up. Dani had said most kids could see her, hadn't she? "There are kids at the manor?"

"Yeah, Flora and Miles. You'll love 'em, I think," Jamie answers, pauses again, "Poor squirts. Been through hell and back. Haven't exactly been the same since their parents passed away."

"Oh no."

A thought flutters into Jamie's mind. "Do you... Can you—?"

 _Find them?_ The look she flashes Dani is enough to pass the message without verbalizing with words. _Are they here?_

Jamie tries not to deflate a little when Dani ruefully shakes her head. "I haven't seen anyone else like me, I'm sorry."

"S'okay, Poppins," Jamie reassures with a small smile, patting the space between them comfortingly in lieu of trying to touch Dani, which likely wouldn't work (something she'd do well to remember if she's forgetting it so often). "It was worth a shot. Besides, I'm not bringing you there so we can do a séance, yeah? I'm bringing you there to lift your spirits up."

The most adorable sound fills the air as Dani snorts out a laugh, palms flying to her face to smother the sound a little too late. While absolutely endeared by the reaction, Jamie's still confused, for a fraction of a second, as to why Dani would have laughed until—

"Oh, for fuck's—Owen's terrible sense of humour is rubbing off on me," Jamie curses, only half-heartedly, making a show of brushing down the sleeves of her flannel like it could help extricate his influence on her. "Wow. This is terrible. Absolutely terrible. First my truck, now Owen, it's like I can't even catch a break 'round here—"

And Jamie goes on and on and _on_ , pretending to complain about mundane miseries, and Dani's laughing until she's crying, until one bus pulls up, then another, then another. It's 7:00 PM, then 8:00 PM, then 9:00 PM, and time flies too quickly when one's having fun, and Jamie can't even remember the last time she'd looked at the cracked watch on her wrist and startled to find out that _hours_ have passed since she arrived. She should be heading home, she thinks distantly, but the last trip isn't until 10:00 PM, anyway, and if she's pleased that she has another hour to waste in Dani's company, she doesn't even bother trying to deny it. Doesn't think she even _can_ deny it, at this point.

It isn't until much later, when Jamie's settled into the back of the last bus to visit the stop until 3:00 AM the following day, that she realizes something.

"Shit," she murmurs fondly under her breath; she couldn't even find it in her to be frustrated at the epiphany. "Jamie Taylor, you barmy little shit, of all the people you could be crushing on..."

It has to be a crush on a fucking ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "trust" by alina baraz; this line also comes after the one used in the intermission
> 
> right-o! so! back to jamie's pov (sorry if this isn't as long as the others, i wanted dani's visit to bly to be on a separate chapter... or, rather, chapters), i hope you folks don't mind, but if you're interested in more dani pov intermissions (maybe to get a little bit of lore on my version of "ghosts"), please do let me know and i'll work on adding more of those in the coming updates. do you want them few and far in between? do you want them an average number of times? do you want them frequently? i'm completely open to suggestions.


	6. the parts of me the eyes can't see / they're glowing underneath (this kind of love we can't control / the art of touch, i am covered in gold)

Being on a bus with a ghost is... weird, to say the least.

In order to keep people from staring at her, Jamie has taken to holding a phone over her ear, pretending to be conversing with someone on the other line while Dani, squished between her and the window, continues giggling into her palm despite the fact that nobody else can hear her. It's weird. It's weird and silly and stupid and insufferably _endearing_ that Jamie can't stop the smile from making her cheeks ache.

"What's so funny?" The phone trembles slightly in her grasp from the effort of having to hold it up to her face. "Sure, keep laughing at me, Poppins. It breaks my heart, you know."

There's no real bite to her words, and Dani's chiming laughter confirms that she knows this. Instead, Jamie spares a glance to her left, smile growing even wider as Dani brushes a few misty tears from her eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, it's just—" She laughs again, and Jamie thinks it's the single most warm sound she's ever heard in her life. "I'm sorry, I'll behave, I promise."

"You better," Jamie says gently, relaxing against the back of her seat and subtly flashing another playful look at the woman beside her. "You're gonna love the garden, I think. Damn near lost a couple of fingers trying to get it to look the way I wanted it to but it's worth it."

"I have a feeling anything you've touched is magical," Dani answers, something genuine thick on her tongue, and it's Jamie's turn to feel heat spread across her cheeks, along the back of her neck, up to the tips of her ears.

"Complimenting my work when you haven't even seen it yet," Jamie starts with a smug tone of voice, "Poppins, you flirt."

She watches as Dani tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, away from her face, ducking shyly under her blonde fringe. "What can I say? It's a pretty strong feeling."

 _I've got a pretty strong feeling, too,_ Jamie thinks, but she knows it might be too much, too soon, too out-of-place to say to a ghost. Instead, she beams wider, moving her phone to her right hand to leave her left hand free and placed casually on the space between them. She watches, breath held but entirely fascinated, as Dani curiously moves her own hand, inching closer and closer across the seat until...

Jamie feels the cold air at first, the cold air that warms the closer Dani gets, and then it's _there_ , pinkies barely touching, and it's so light, it's so impossibly _light_ but it's _there_ behind the difference in temperature. Jamie doesn't know how to explain it, how to even process it, but she basks in the proximity nevertheless. If she closes her eyes and focuses, the feeling gets stronger, on and on until it's as if Dani is really sitting—

"Excuse me, may I sit?"

Jamie's eyes fly open and look up, finding a young woman looking down at the physically vacant seat beside her. A spot of panic lodges itself in her chest as Jamie turns, only to find that Dani is no longer there. The panic grows, afraid that Dani has left her, but a quick voice chimes from the other side of the bus and there, there Jamie finds her, waving shyly from the far side of the stranger sitting across the aisle.

"Yeah, yeah of course," Jamie responds in a strangled tone, moving to the seat by the window and flashing Dani an apologetic smile before the figure blocks her line of sight. She keeps the phone held to her ear, however, and continues, "Is there any flower in particular that you'd like to see, Poppins?"

"Oh, I don't know," comes Dani's response from the other side of the bus, struggling to withhold a giggle, "I think I like all flowers fairly. I mean, how can you even choose when they all look so different and so pretty, right?"

The conversation goes on throughout the trip, Jamie smiling gently as she fakes a phone conversation only for the response to come from the other side of the bus. It's crazy. It's absolutely crazy and it's—it's _fun_ , and it stuns her how fun it is, to sit there and giggle like teenagers at their secret. Her chest feels like it's taken flight and maybe, just maybe, Jamie should be a _little_ concerned, but she can't seem to find it in here to even _care_. She's having fun with Dani, and it's rapidly starting to feel like it doesn't even matter if Dani's a ghost. Jamie enjoys her company.

They reach the road leading up to Bly Manor bright and early, the sun only just beginning to peer over the horizon. They exit the bus quickly, and Jamie's a little unsure why she lets Dani get out first, thinking that she doesn't want to leave Dani behind on the bus but knowing full-well that Dani could just teleport beside her anyway, but she figures it's the normalcy of the gesture.

"We still need to hike up to the grounds, but I figured, since you're usually at the park this time of day, you wouldn't mind taking the scenic route," Jamie explains, slipping her hands into her pockets and looking at Dani hopefully.

"I'd love that," Dani answers with a soft smile.

With that out of the way, the pair begins to walk the rest of the way to the Manor, chatting idly about anything and everything in the world. Jamie points at the different trees they find, and Dani makes a mental note of them, repeating the names back to Jamie when they come across the same tree on the way up. Eventually, after a few minutes of walking, they arrive at Jamie's place of employment, and Dani wastes no time fluttering around the grounds, peering at the well-maintained hedges and bushes, with Jamie grinning proudly at the endless well of complements directed at her prized work.

"Jamie!"

They both turn to look at the source of the beckon, and Jamie waves at Hannah, who is peering out of the front door. "Good morning, Hannah!"

"Come on in!" The voice floats easily across the quiet grounds. "We've made some tea in the kitchen, help yourself while I help Rebecca upstairs!"

"Thanks, love, cheers!" As she watches Hannah's head disappear back into the depths of the manor, Jamie turns to Dani and shrugs. "I did say you were going to meet my friends, yeah? That's Hannah Grose. If I keep the outside up and running, she does that for the inside. Damn sure this whole place would be insufferable without her."

"She seems lovely," Dani agrees with a nod of her head.

"She is, she's been there for me more times than I can count." Jamie's smile turns gentle, affectionate, and she takes a moment to breathe deep before turning back to her friend, gesturing towards the path leading up to the front door. "Well, Poppins. Shall we?"

Dani nods eagerly, and off they go, slipping into the large manor and finding their way to the kitchen, following the scent of breakfast cooked to perfection. Jamie's eyes slip to the side, back to Dani (as it oft does now), and she finds curiosity, excitement, and a little bit of confusion in the ghost's expression.

"I can smell that," Dani comments, her voice almost choked in wonder.

"Yeah, I mean, the smell's kinda everywhere, Poppins."

"No, I mean, I can _smell_ that. I don't—I don't usually smell anything," Dani adds, and suddenly it makes sense. As a ghost, Dani likely has never smelled anything else in the land of the living, except now...

"Well, Owen's cooking must just be that good," Jamie decides with a quick shrug, finally slipping into the kitchen and hoisting herself up on the empty table. "Oi, Sharma. What've you got cooking today?"

"You'll find out when I'm done, Jamie, lest I risk you eating it all before it's done," Owen laughs, peering at her over his shoulder and letting his eyes flick around the room. His smile turns brighter, and Jamie's about to ask why that is, until he continues, "Who's your friend?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, well oops!
> 
> chapter title is from the song "unfold" by alina baraz
> 
> anyways, i have a confession to make:
> 
> i'm not actually a good writer. in fact, i'm pretty sure my writing is as basic as it comes, but this is my attempt at trying to add more to the blyfic community because yeah, YEAH, we deserve happy endings, god damn it! we need more content of dani clayton and jamie taylor, and, honestly, the last time i felt this passionate about a fictional pairing is all the way back when clexa was happening (and we all know how THAT turned out). is this gonna be the greatest, most mind-blowing fic you've ever read? probably not! there's loads of better writers out there. but is this a fic that i hope makes someone smile nevertheless? absolutely! 
> 
> the year's been shit, yeah? we deserve a break. a fic might not mean all that much to some people, but it could mean the world to others. i know all of these blyfics mean the world to me.


	7. you fill the space between night and morning / and that's exactly what i wanted (give me all the truth you're holding / what i don't know, tell me more)

Jamie stills, and Dani—Dani looks positively perplexed, standing like a deer in the headlights, staring intently at Jamie, then at Owen, her mouth dropping open but clearly struggling to find the words to express the whole 'what the fuck'-ness of what had just happened. Honestly, 'what the fuck' indeed.

"Um," Owen interrupts their shared, startled looks, "The both of you okay?"

"You can see her?" Jamie's stunned question comes at the same time as Dani's. "You can see me?"

"Should I not?" Owen smiles confusedly at them... and then his smile drops, looking confused by _their_ confusion, until— "Wait. Wait, this is her?"

"Owen," Jamie wonders breathlessly, looking back at Dani and finding the ghost looking a bit faint, her hands pressed carefully at the edges of the table to keep herself upright. "Owen, she's—"

"There you are, Jamie, glad you and your friend can dine with us," comes Hannah's greeting, offering a welcoming smile and very visibly noticing Dani's distress, if the sudden, concerned fire in her eyes is anything to go by. "Oh, are you alright, dear? You look a little pale."

"I—" Dani's words are caught in her throat, and Jamie quickly hops off of the table to step closer to her, subconsciously raising a hand to press against her shoulder.

They both startle when it lands. It _lands_ , and although Jamie still passes by the aura of cold, then hot, as she has come to associate with Dani's ghostly presence, her palm lands on something real and something solid and—well, something that's Dani. "Poppins, you—"

Without warning, Dani disappears. Simply disappears. Her hand falls through the air, hanging by her side.

She hears Hannah's sharp intake of breath, followed by the telltale _crack_ of Owen dropping an egg on the floor. Jamie, whose headache has returned with a slight vengeance, rubs at her temples, eyes squeezing shut to hold the pounding at bay. "So, yeah, about the whole dead thing, well..."

[ 👻 ]

Jamie finds her outside of the manor, hiding behind a tall, manicured shrub. For a second, Jamie stands there, kicking at the gravel beneath her boot, making enough noise to let Dani know that she's there without startling her, but when Dani's sharp, panicked breaths fail to cease, she clears her throat and starts talking. "Poppins?"

There's no response. Jamie tucks her hands into her pockets and idly kicks at the ground some more.

"Well, that was fun," she finally offers after a beat, her gaze mapping the corners of the grounds but returning to Dani after every sway, gravitating to the locks of blonde just barely visible around the greenery. "Hey, you know, I think that disappearing thing could be really helpful. You reckon you could pull that off when Peter comes a'visiting? I'd love to see the shock on that slimy bastard's face when he comes 'round the corner and sees you lurkin' at the end of the hall."

Dani laughs at that, brushing tears away from her face with the back of her fists and sniffling. It takes only a few seconds more for Dani to turn around and look at her over her shoulder, eyes still a little raw, and Jamie offers a tender smile at the sight. "I don't know if I can pull off scary, to be honest."

"Shoot, you _do_ look a bit like a puppy with the wide eyes and the golden hair, don't you? Maybe not fear, then. Ah, maybe you can kill him with kindness? Ask him ever so kindly to fuck off?" Jamie takes a step closer, hesitant, until she sees Dani nod, an approval of her approach. When Jamie's directly beside her, she reaches out again—tentatively, so as not to startle Dani, moving closer until her fingers slip into Dani's hand. Much like in the kitchen, she's secretly pleased to find that she's holding something solid. Perhaps a bit too warm, but the weather is getting chillier _anyway_ , and, if she's being honest, she doesn't exactly _mind_. "I know it's a lot to take in, Poppins. Do you want us to walk a bit elsewhere? Ease the tension off?"

"No, no—" Dani stops, and Jamie feels fingers tighten around her own, and god, if Jamie hadn't even seen Dani disappear right before her very eyes, she wouldn't even think Dani is a ghost to begin with. Her skin is soft, much softer than hers, but there's a stubborn nature to her grasp. Perhaps to keep herself from floating away. "I—I was just a little surprised. I mean, infants and children, and you—those, I'm used to those seeing me. Now there are two other people who know I'm there and it feels... it feels..."

Jamie catches Dani looking at her again, so she flashes another patient smile.

"It feels nice. A little overwhelming, though," Dani finishes, and Jamie watches as her wet lashes lower on her face. "I think I'm ready to go in again, but... thank you, Jamie."

"For what?"

"For this." Jamie lets Dani raise their knotted hands together, smiles when Dani shakes it. "It means a lot."

"You're pretty hard to resist, Dani," Jamie admits, her free hand rubbing gently across the back of her neck. "Well, shall we meet my friends, then?"

They're still smiling, still holding hands by the time they return to the kitchen. Owen, who seems to have since finished cooking, is sitting in a chair with his fingers threaded together, and Hannah's perched next to him, a hand on his shoulder. At their entrance, they both look up, and Jamie feels Dani tense in her grasp, likely expecting shock, or terror, or worse—but instead, Owen and Hannah offer them a smile, although they do take notice of the bound hands.

"Well, now, I've long assumed the first ghost I'd meet is in this cavernous place," Owen starts hesitantly, an eyebrow twitching in amusement, "but I never thought it'd be under these circumstances. It's a welcome one, anyhow. Better a ghost walking into my kitchen smelling the food then crawling out from under my bed."

Jamie's shoulders sag in relief when Dani lets out an amused snort, and the sound sends her head spinning a little—she decides to capture the sound in her mind, tuck it into a filing cabinet with every other little thing Jamie's noticed that she's found endearing.

"I don't make a habit of hiding under beds," Dani says, voice unfurling into something brighter, "but if I do, I'll make sure to make an exception for you."

"I'd appreciate that," Owen responds, and suddenly the tension is gone—suddenly it's just the Owen she knows and loves, puns be damned, standing up and offering a hand across the table, followed by Hannah. "I'm Owen Sharma, and this lovely lady here is Hannah Grose. Pleased to meet you, Miss—?"

"Dani Clayton," Dani responds, letting go of Jamie's hand to shake first Owen's, then Hannah's hands. They both look at their hands as she does so, perhaps as surprised as Jamie had been only minutes earlier, but they recover surprisingly quickly. "This is a lovely manor, by the way. And the cooking, oh, the cooking smells wonderful."

"Owen works wonders with the food," Hannah agrees, settling back down into her chair and blinking serenely at Owen, who is quickly fixing up a plate for everybody. Jamie politely declines, and Owen gives her an understanding nod. "It's like all it needs is his touch and then everything becomes delectable."

"Magic food," Jamie chimes in, peering at the dish laid out. "Huh, shit, maybe he _does_ have magic food. I mean, with Dani here, it's not _completely_ outside of the realm of possibility, innit?"

"I should make business cards," Owen adds, moustache brushing against his lips as his smile turns smug. "Owen Sharma. Powers: Super Cooking."

"Come for the food, stay for the incorrigible puns."

"Jamie, you love those puns."

"No, I do _not_."

"You _do_ , though! You'd have decked me otherwise!"

" _Children_ ," Hannah finally interrupts, amused as the air in the kitchen settles into one of familiarity. "We must not keep food waiting. Jamie, will you join us this morning?"

"Already ate," Jamie answers, kicking the floor idly and ignoring the blatant reality that she has not, in fact, eaten anything—but, looking at Dani, she doesn't know if she should indulge. Dani's looking at the food on the table with a subtle wash of longing, and she feels like it would be... wrong? Not wrong, but insensitive, maybe. "I wouldn't mind getting it to-go, though. Save it for later."

"Just make sure you _heat_ it," Owen says, pointing a fork at her. "You're desecrating my supernatural work every time you eat it cold."

"Yes, chef." With a roll of her eyes, Jamie tugs gently on Dani's too-real hand and waves farewell, leading her around the corners and back out towards the grounds. They walk at a languid pace, enjoying the cool morning air, and Jamie tries to pretend like she's not watching Dani look around the lawn from the corner of her field of vision. "So, Poppins. What do you think of them?"

"They're really sweet people," Dani answers, still looking elsewhere, but her warm fingers squeeze around Jamie's in acknowledgement. "I... I'm glad I got to really meet them. That they _see_ me. That they don't _mind_."

"I still wonder about that."

In truth, Jamie still wonders about a lot of things. About meeting Dani. About holding Dani. Here, trekking down the length of the manor's grounds, Dani looks as real as any other person.

There's a warmth to her like this, soaking up the sunlight, eyes closed against the sun's lazy rays.

When Dani breathes deeply, Jamie loses her breath in kind; _beautiful_ , she thinks, the hand in her grasp almost burning life into the skin of her palm and Jamie hangs on, holds on, letting the same warmth seep into her chest and fill it to spilling.

"Dani, I—"

"Are those roses?"

Dani's looking at the bushes to the side, but all Jamie can look at is her.

 _This is insane._ She feels no real anger despite the wording. If anything, the musing is affectionate, loaded with unspoken revelations of something she wonders might be more than a passing friendship. _This is insane. This is insane. This is_ —

"Yes," Jamie answers. The answer echoes somewhere deep within her, blowing softly on a burning ember until it catches on kindling she thought she'd already soaked and buried. It burns.

_Yes._

It carries more than Dani could ever know, but Jamie doesn't care. She stopped caring the moment she decided to return to the bus stop of her own accord.

_Yes, Dani._

It breathes bittersweet: warmth for the emotions clutching at her chest, cold for the claws of reality digging in.

Dani is dead.

_But here..._

Jamie watches as Dani separates from her, bending over to smell the roses and looking delighted. A lock of golden hair catches on the rise of her cheek and clings there. Her lips trace a content curl across her face.

_Yes, it's Dani._

Here in Bly Manor, surrounded by all the plants Jamie has tended to for years, Dani looks alive.

Dani looks alive, and Jamie thinks she could fall for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you didn't see that coming.
> 
> chapter title is from the song "night and morning" by alina baraz
> 
> we've got enough wlw tragedies in media. someone leaves, someone dies, someone cries for like 2 minutes straight lamenting over lost loves and parallels to timeless greek tales (i'm looking at you, portrait of a lady on fire). i'm thinking we deserve some good fluff... and ghost shenanigans. LOADS of ghost shenanigans. dead doesn't mean gone, folks.
> 
> apologies for any typos this work might have, btw! i can barely pay attention to anything. forgive any grammar issues as well, english isn't my first language (technically...? it's a long, complicated story idk). this is the last of my backlog of chapters, so i'll get to writing more as soon as i can for y'all!


	8. show me all that you know / water me, i will grow (place the map on my skin / go where no one has been)

By lunchtime, with no second garden to have to tend to for the day (and thank god for small mercies), they find themselves hiding in the greenhouse.

It's surprisingly easy, finding a place where they can fit. Jamie's curled up on one end of the ratty couch the Wingraves had let her reclaim, quietly pouring through a book with a cigarette perched on her lips, and Dani's laid out on the opposite side, bare feet tucked under Jamie's thighs, happy enough to watch the potted plants that they had just watered. 

Jamie leans to the side, crushing the finished cigarette into an old can she's turned into a makeshift ashtray and blowing out the last of the smoke lingering in her lungs. She's supposed to turn back to her book, eager to reach the next chapter before sunset, but her eyes stray back to Dani—Dani, whose eyelids are slowly drooping, rising, drooping again until they finally fall shut.

She takes the opportunity to study the curious woman who, quite literally, came out of nowhere and managed to bury herself so deeply, so _quickly_ , into Jamie's life. Any concern she might have had with continuing to communicate with a ghost has already faded away, leaving only a slow-burning curiosity, stoked by the warmth under Dani's cheeks and the hint of a smile playing on her lips—mirroring Jamie's own, she realizes belatedly, although she doesn't even attempt to school her features at this point.

There's something oddly serene about the situation.

Dani looks so perfectly in-place in her greenhouse that it strikes at something tender in Jamie's chest, something she could have sworn she'd already lost. If she can look inside herself, she wonders what she'll find—the hardened heart she's carried for years, or something softer?

The tiniest snore slips out of Dani's lips, and Jamie's throat tightens with affection.

Slowly, Jamie closes her book and sets it on the table beside her before hunkering down, curling one arm over the back of the couch and propping her head against it. The other hand, she places on Dani's bare ankle, massaging gently and smiling when she hears Dani murmur something incoherent before returning to her quiet snoring.

Perhaps it's the morning spent elbow-deep in soil and laughing at Dani's stories about the different kinds of people she's observed as a ghost, or perhaps it's the way she and Dani are settled so comfortably, intertwined in the subtlest ways; either way, wakefulness seeps away from Jamie's body until she's lulled into a light sleep, fingers tucked comfortably underneath Dani's calf.

She doesn't stir until three hours later, when Jamie flexes her hand and finds that it's since landed back on the material of the couch.

Jamie startles awake, head whirling around the greenhouse and trying to locate where Dani could have gone, but the greenhouse is empty. She pushes down the swell of worry itching at the bottom of her throat, grasping at rationality with rigid fingers as she pushes herself back up on her feet, straining to keep her emotions in check. It's only when she stands that she notices someone must have tossed a blanket over her—it pools on the ground by her feet, and she swoops down to keep it from being dirtied, folding and hanging it on the back of the couch before finally stepping outside of her nook.

"Poppins?"

The sun has started to dip, its upper half only barely peeking from over the treeline. It casts a honeyed glow across the grounds—unusual, Jamie notes, because it casts desirability across the manor's expanse that it had never possessed before. For the very first time since she's started tending the grounds, it glows.

A barely audible sound reaches her ears—light chatter, carried by the wind. Jamie follows the voices, brows furrowing further and further until she finds...

"Oh, so we're havin' a little get-together without me, now?"

On the bank at the lip of the lake, Jamie finds the most peculiar sight.

Owen and Hannah are reclined on a pair of chairs they must've hauled out of storage, nursing warm mugs of tea. Hannah offers her a third mug, and Jamie wraps her hands gratefully around the ceramic, blowing the steam away from the surface before continuing her observation. Rebecca has since made her appearance, showing a keen-eyed Miles how to skip flat rocks across the water. Flora is threading small wildflowers on a blanket strewn across the ground, and next to her—

Dani's hair is spun-gold, cheeks coloured with a light flush, eyes bluer than the water. She's teaching Flora how to fold the stems this way and that, pointing where she should tighten the knot or loosen it. It steals Jamie's breath away, seeing Dani fit in so seamlessly into the scene, that she almost forgets...

"Does..?" Her voice is quiet, tentative, and a little bit fearful. Jamie turns to the seated pair, grip tightening around the mug. "Can Rebecca..?"

"Yeah," Owen answers in a whisper, licking tea from his upper lip. "Yeah, she can. It's so... it's odd. I'd ask you if you were sure she's a ghost if I hadn't seen her wink out of existence before my very eyes."

"Tell me 'bout it."

Dani looks up at her then.

There's a raw, vulnerable warmth in her eyes that nearly sends Jamie to her knees with the strength behind it. Slowly, Jamie's lips pull into a gentle smile, and Dani matches it with a grin so bright it nearly blinds her. Dangerous territory, Jamie knows, but she can't help herself, can't help the way the sight tugs at her heart when Dani turns back to Flora and resumes teaching her the art of desecrating wildflowers. She can't even find it in her to be mad.

"Quite something, isn't she?"

Jamie startles at Rebecca's approach, leaving Miles to test his new rock-skipping skills. "Hey, Becca."

"Still feel like this is a dream," her friend answers, bumping their shoulders together before turning to observe Dani. "You know, I thought Owen had genuinely lost it when he told me there's a ghost in the Manor. Could've sworn he was either crazy or pulling my leg... but then I saw her, curled up with you in the greenhouse, and then she—"

"Disappeared?"

"She has a habit of doing that?"

Jamie chuckles, smiling into the lip of her mug and taking a sip. "Yeah, she does."

"Well, wish someone could've warned me. I just wanted to ask if you'd want to hang out by the lake. She woke up when I bumped into the door and— _poof!_ " Rebecca laughs at the memory, and Jamie warms at the fondness in her tone. "Winked out. Didn't even know where she hid until I started hearing high-pitched apologies from under the table."

"Sure sounds like her," Jamie responds, voice thick, eyes straying back to Dani and watching her, watching the way her hands move to explain to Flora how to finish the band. "What do you think? Weird even for you, Becca?"

"I'm fine, surprisingly enough." Jamie's eyebrow rises, looking back at her. "I mean, it's kind of hard to be freaked out when she's sitting _right there_ and looking like she's, well, like _everything's_ normal. I'd tell you to see for yourself, but you can't seem to even stop doing it on your own."

"Shut up," Jamie laughs, pushing her shoulder. "Good, though, that you're... that all of you are handling it pretty well. Better than I did the first time, at least."

"Why? What happened the first time?"

"Looked at her like she was crazy. Looked at her like maybe _I_ was going crazy. Dunno."

"I'm hardly surprised, Jamie. We can say it's because of the odd situation, but it can also be the fact that you just have very poor people skills," Rebecca points out, and Jamie snorts in response.

" _Poor people skills_? I'll have you know, I have amazing people skills," she rebuts, feigning indignance. "I just don't bother using them. People aren't worth the effort most times."

"Ah, but ghosts are an exception, aren't they?"

Jamie narrows her eyes at Rebecca. "Something you're trying to say, Jessel?"

"Ooh, pulling the surname card on me. Must've hit the nail on the head there," Rebecca goads. "Careful, Taylor. Your heart's showing."

"Christ, why do I hang out with you?"

"Because you'd lose your mind otherwise."

"Pretty sure the only reason I'm losing mine is because you're insufferab—"

"Jamie?"

Halting their hushed conversation, Jamie blinks down at young Flora bouncing on the soles of her feet, both hands tucked behind her. "Yes, Flora?"

"May you please lower your head? I have something very important to tell you."

She hears Rebecca's adoring snort, Owen and Hannah's rapid whispers—she sees Dani, over the top of Flora's head, smiling tenderly at the interaction. "Okay," Jamie relents, crouching until she's eye-level with the young girl. "Shoot."

Flora plops something down on her head, and it takes a second for Jamie to realize that it's the flower crown she and Dani had been working on.

"From Miss Dani." Jamie's lips spill into a touched smile, lowering her head when Flora reaches up again to fix the placement. "She thinks you're perfectly splendid."

"Yeah?" She looks up, looking at Dani again, the skin on the outer edges of her eyes creasing subtly as she beams. "I think she's perfectly splendid, too."

Flora giggles before finally turning away, skipping towards her brother and asking him to teach her what he's learned. Jamie's gaze remains on Dani for several breaths, still crouched on the ground, feeling impossibly breathless as Dani meets her gaze in return. Her eyes are deep, hypnotic, and Jamie thinks she can get lost in them. 

Jamie decides to finally approach her, setting the mug down as she goes and taking a seat to her right, drawn by the palpable tenderness.

"You enjoyin' yourself there, Poppins?"

"Very much," Dani answers, wrapping her arms around her knees and setting her cheek on top of them. She's beaming, still. It's infectious... not that Jamie minds. "Sorry I left you in the greenhouse, by the way. They wanted to show me something and I guess I lost track of—"

"It's alright," Jamie stops with a soft laugh. "Glad you did, anyhow. This squirt seems to like you plenty."

"Flora's sweet. Miles is a little harder to get to, but he's a nice boy. It shows."

"He is. They both are. Been a rough year or so for them, but they've got a family here." Smile turning wistful, Jamie peers at the space around them, at Rebecca returning to help Flora and Miles, at Owen and Hannah serenely emptying their mugs and squinting warmly at the sun. At Dani, curled up with a lock of hair falling between her eyes, lashes casting shadows across her flushed face. "Family... yeah. Exactly what it is. Little rough at the edges, I'll admit, but a family nonetheless."

"I'm glad you showed me this."

"I'm glad I brought you." Jamie hums thoughtfully, turning her face to the sky and letting its warmth match the blood rushing under her cheeks. "So, Poppins? This family can be here for you too, if you'd like."

"Me?"

Jamie turns back to Dani, watching as she looks around at the faces of the people who can see her—who _have_ seen her and accepted her despite the supernatural circumstances. "Yeah," Jamie answers after a beat. "Yeah, you. Sorry, is there another Poppins I don't know about? Where've you been hidin' her, Dani?"

"Oh, shush."

"It has to mean something." Dani's eyes snap back to her at that. "That I can see you. That we can see you, I—I dunno, I mean... how could it not?"

"It has to," Dani agrees, and Jamie's soft smile grows wider when Dani leans closer. Not enough to touch, but enough for her to feel the cold-then-warmth that pours out of Dani in thick, palpable waves. "But what does it mean?"

"I'm not entirely certain yet, but I'd like to wait around to find out, if you are."

"Well, I mean..." Dani motions to herself with one hand, grinning. "It's not like there's anywhere else I have to be."

Jamie snorts, says, "Glad I can completely hijack your schedule then."

"You're kinda hard to resist."

"What can I say? Can't help that I'm a total charmer."

"Oh, _wow_ , don't let it get to your head."

"Unlikely. Head's already too full of you to fit anything else, I'm afraid."

 _That_ stuns Dani into a surprised silence, wide-eyes mapping Jamie's face. Jamie just blinks, lips still pulled into a lazy smirk, leaning back on her palms and letting herself bask in the sunlight.

She hears Dani laugh, feels her lean even closer. "My head's kinda full of you, too," she hears her whisper, and Jamie feels like her heart might jump out of her chest. When they share another look, it's with a tenderness that neither of them is even capable of verbalizing, but it's _enough_ to just share that look and know, tentatively, what it means. What it means for them.

Circumstances be damned.

A low, thick sound of contentment rasps in the back of Jamie's throat as she finally relents, lying down on her back and staring up at the endless blue sky. It takes less than a second for Dani to follow her down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "frank" by alina baraz
> 
> sorry, viola can't come to the phone right now. happy holidays to everyone!
> 
> ah yes, look at these lesbians. so sweet. so fluffy. so gooey. marshmallows, the entire lot of them.
> 
> don't get me wrong, though—ghostly shenanigans WILL return. we also aren't done with any of the light angst yet. not when we've only just started, but there will be more sweet moments too.
> 
> i've decided to space out my posting schedule now that it's the holidays, which means family stuff, which means i don't have enough time to have a backlog of chapters that i can just queue for posting, unfortunately! i'll try to post for both fics once a week, at the very least. at most, i'll update one fic per week, but i do hope it doesn't come to that. 🤘😔


	9. hope you kiss my rotten head and pull the plug (know that i've burned every playlist and given all my love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "the killer + the sound" by phoebe bridgers, abby gundersen, and noah gundersen

As they're walking back to the bus stop, Dani can't help but wonder how lucky she must be, all things considered.

She may have lost her life, but here she walks, finding the meaning of it between casual conversation and meaningful looks with a gardener—Jamie, with dirt under her fingernails and sweat on her brow, laughing amusedly as she recounts the tale of Owen and Hannah's endless dance—not just _any_ gardener, Dani corrects. Jamie's curly hair is thrown up in a messy bun, wild locks in tangled disarray, and there's a smudge of soil across the rise of her left cheek. Her eyes crinkle when she chuckles, one brow pulling down into an amused and lopsided furrow, and it sends Dani reeling with affection every time.

"I don't think either of them will ever realize unless Becca and I do somethin' about it," Jamie says, her murmur breathless from the walk but light with joy. "You, too. Unfortunately for you, Poppins, you've been roped into settin' those two up now that you're part of the family."

"Ah, sorry, what do you expect me to do? Scare Owen into jumping into Hannah's arms?"

"That would work perfectly, I reckon," Jamie snorts.

Dani takes a deep breath, focusing her existence into the side where Jamie's walking, and then she reaches out, wrapping a hand around the gardener's elbow and bracing herself for whatever may happen afterwards.

It's warm where they share the touch, and though Jamie startles at the sudden point of contact, she smiles ever wider, knocking a shoulder into Dani's lightly and expertly matching her pace. Dani feels like she might take flight, the way her heart swells up in her chest, and she can't help but beam right back.

Dani doesn't know if there's anything else that has ever felt as right as _this_.

"I mean, of course, you said you don't do the whole haunting thing, didn't you? Wouldn't want to force you into doin' something you're not into..."

"I can make exceptions for friends," Dani offers with a shrug of her shoulder, letting her lips fall into something resembling smugness. "You think crawling out of the fireplace could do the trick?"

"That'll do plenty—"

Dani's entire body fades faster than she can even realize it's happening. One second, she feels like she could be alive—the next, a body is passing through her, causing her existence to fade for a fleeting moment before reforming, but it seems to have done the trick.

Her hand passes through Jamie's arm.

"Poppins..."

There's a loud pounding in Dani's ears, drowning out the worried cadence of Jamie's voice as her body turns rigid. She turns around, watches the woman who had walked by keep going, oblivious.

Tears spring in Dani's eyes before she can even stop them.

The beauty of the day turns into something bitter and jagged, cutting into her chest like angry teeth feasting on the agony. She can't breathe—she can't breathe, and though she doesn't need to, the realization _hurts_ more than losing her breath, and suddenly she's collapsing onto the ground, hands twisted into the material of her shirt until her knuckles turn white.

It's fake, she remembers.

It's fake. Everything is fake. This isn't real, it could never be real, not when she's dead and Jamie's alive and _it's not fair._ How is _any_ of this fair?

She can't hear Jamie. She can't hear what Jamie's saying past the powerful sobs from her chest and the blood in her ears and the roar of truck barrelling down the street—

"I'm sorry," she whispers between cries, refusing to meet Jamie's eyes because it's useless, it's _useless_ , and whatever hope she might have felt that day slips past her fingers like ash, disappearing into the wind. "God, Jamie, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I—"

"Poppins—"

"I can't—" A loud sob, wet and desperate, interrupts her words, body trembling violently. "I can't—I can't be..."

" _Dani_ —"

" _I'm dead, Jamie,_ " she cries out, and saying it out loud, after _everything_ , is like a punch to the gut.

But it's the truth.

She's dead. She's been dead all this time, and she's stupid to even try pretending that she isn't. So what if Jamie can touch her, sometimes? So what if Jamie's friends can see her? It doesn't change the fact that she's dead, she's dead and _gone_ and Jamie is alive and—

"I'm sorry—"

"Dani, please." The desperation in Jamie's voice tears her heart in two. "Dani, look at me."

She can't.

"Please."

She _can't_.

"Poppins..."

She can't, and so she wills herself away, feeling the pull of forces beyond her understanding dragging her all the way back to the only safe place she knows—the park. Her entire body spills across the same rotten bench she spends her night in, and she puts her feet up on the seat, hugging her legs closer to her chest and burying her face against her knees to mute the sounds of each, mournful cry... except she doesn't have to because she's _dead,_ it doesn't even fucking matter.

She feels like she's dying all over again.

 _Stupid stupid stupid_. The reminder matches the rhythm of her pounding chest. Every time she screws her eyes shut, she remembers the look on Jamie's face, but every time she opens them, she sees the vast emptiness beyond her and it's cruel, it's so _so_ cruel—cruel of her to entertain the thought of being with Jamie, cruel of the world to show her what she's lost before she can even hold it in her hands.

She's dead.

She's dead and she has no business falling in love.

[ 👻 ]

There's someone sitting on her bench.

She's curled up too tightly for them to be sitting on top of her, but the sound of rustling is unmistakable enough that she finds the last wisps of sleep leave her grasp. Dani screws her eyes tighter, frustration coating her tongue in something thick and bitter, and she lets out a disgruntled groan before turning around to face the back of the bench in the hopes that she can find some rest again. Maybe she can rest for a decade. Maybe she can rest until she moves on to the other life, wherever that could even be.

"Not much of a morning person, are you, Poppins?"

Oh?

Slowly, Dani's eyes peel open, head whirling around and finding—

_Oh._

Jamie's sitting by her feet, and Dani has to blink a few more times to realize that, no, she's not _dreaming_ (not that she could dream). Jamie has one arm thrown over the back of the bench, one foot tucked under the opposite thigh—pretty, Dani thinks, even as she's scrubbing ill-gotten sleep from her eyes. She's wearing yesterday's clothes, her hair mussed up, lips dry and spread into a tentative smile.

"Jamie..."

"Sorry. I didn't know where you went off to. I tried the bus stop or the manor and you weren't there, then I remembered you sayin' something about a park and figured this must've been what you meant." Jamie's face creases into something resembling guilt and Dani wants to reach forward, to help, to heal, but the memory of passing through Jamie keeps her hands pressed to her chest. "And if you want me to go, Poppins, I can go, but I just—I want you to know something."

Dani finally sits up, folding her legs in front of her, keeping her distance but wanting badly to cross it, to tuck the stray curl stuck to Jamie's cheek behind her ear and touch her, _touch her_. 

"It's complicated. I know." She hears the gardener take a deep, shaky breath. "But here's the thing. There's this girl that I like—bit of a weirdo, she is, but god help me, I really fuckin' like her."

Jamie's eyes dart to her.

"Thing is, though, she's afraid, and she has every right to be afraid. I won't be that arse who tells her not to be. How she feels about it matters to me, because she matters to me, and what she thinks matters to me," Jamie continues, holding her gaze, and Dani feels her heart swoop violently in her chest. "I'm afraid, too. Hell, I'm kind of worried she'll think I'm the crazy one, seeing as I came here and all."

Yeah, okay, fine. Under different circumstances, it would've been a little weird—but Dani's spent the better part of the past few days spending more and more time at the bus stop just to wait for Jamie, so...

And it's not like Dani hasn't dome some weird shit either. She reads strangers' phones over their shoulders to pass the time.

"Look, what I'm saying is," Jamie says, turning to face Dani fully. "I don't care what other people think. I've never cared about it before, I'm not about to start now. I like spendin' time with you. I'd like to keep spendin' time with you, if you'd like that, too."

Jamie makes it sound so simple.

It's _not_. Dani's still dead, and Jamie's still alive, and anyone passing by would only see a gardener talking to thin air on the opposite end of the bench, but—

But that's not what Jamie's asking.

Jamie's asking whether Dani would like to keep spending time with her, and the answer to _that_ is simple.

"Yeah," Dani answers, and despite her trepidation about everything else, the word comes out sincere and resolute. "Yeah. I'd like to keep spending time with you."

Jamie's expression melts into something close to relief. "Then I guess that settles it?"

To answer, Dani reaches forward hesitantly, her fingers breaching the space between them before pushing further. Jamie waits patiently, never making a move to cross the distance, and she's grateful for that because she has to do this by herself—to _see_ , to _know_.

Her hand lands on Jamie's shoulder, and it's like all of the breath is knocked out of Dani when she surges forward immediately after, burying herself against the gardener's chest. Jamie's arms fold around her back, holding her close, and when Dani breathes again, it's racked with a sob—a relieved sob. Her fingers clench around the material of Jamie's shirt, grabbing trembling fistfuls, anchoring herself closer to the _here_ and the _now_ because it's all that really matters at the moment.

"Should I assume that's a yes?" Jamie's breath warms the side of her cheek, and Dani can only sob harder, nodding furiously to give Jamie an answer. "Really, though, sorry for bein' a creep and lookin' for you here. I was just afraid I wouldn't see you again."

"It's okay," Dani finally manages after a moment, although she keeps her face pressed into Jamie's chest just because she _can_. "And I really like you, too, by the way. Just in case that wasn't clear."

"I think the whole 'jumping into my arms' thing made it pretty clear, actually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pacing? what's that? we don't do any sort of pacing here. we post our chapters straight from the drafts like idiots
> 
> for real though. i've had, like, zero formal education in creative writing other than the World Wide Web. mix that with the fact that english isn't even my native language and you have... whatever this is. #qualitycontent


	10. shall i write it in a letter? shall i try to get it down? (oh, you fill my head with pieces of a song i can't get out)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "bloom" by the paper kites

"Is... is that what I think it is?"

Jamie has to fight a fucking _blush_ from rising on her cheeks when Dani leans in to point at the Bluetooth earpiece tucked into her ear. She ducks her head, but Dani follows her down, moving some of her curls aside (and causing her skin to erupt into delighted shivers) to peer even closer. "Jamie, is this—"

"What? It's a perfectly reasonable purchase," the gardener answers defensively, nose crinkling, because she can _feel_ her ears going warm and red at the very tips, and she'd be annoyed if it isn't _Dani_ —but no, Dani's absolutely the one looking at her like she's the biggest dork in the galaxy, and Jamie's actually kind of into it (she lies to herself and says she isn't, but she can see the deceit from a mile away). "My hand's always getting numb holding the mobile up."

"No, no, I like it," Dani immediately intercepts, and Jamie throwing a disbelieving brow her way until she adds, with a slight clearing of her throat, "I think it's cute."

" _I'm not cute_." Jamie huffs, feigning offence, quickening her pace along the pavement and pretending not to smirk when Dani easily matches her steps—maybe she even floats a little to catch up, Jamie can't quite tell, too busy pointedly refusing to look at her. "I'll have you know, I've been told that I'm the coolest."

"Oh, really?" Curse Dani and the knowing grin that's so audible that Jamie knows it's there without having to look. "By who?"

"... by Flora."

"Oh, that is _so_ cute!" And then Dani's laughing and Jamie laughs with her, _naturally_ , because she's so _cool_ and _composed_.

Ever since the morning at the park, they've started to forgo taking a bus to the Manor, electing instead to walk the streets and bask in the pre-dawn serenity of the quaint town of Bly. Most of the storefronts they pass by are only beginning to accept patrons, but even then, the hustle of the dreary Friday morning has failed to take hold. Jamie's entirely grateful for moments like these, moments where it feels like there's only her and Dani orbiting around each other as they walk.

"You're doing a number on my reputation, y'know?" Jamie takes one of Dani's hands, brings it with her as she slips her fists into the pockets of her windbreaker. She gives herself a mental pat on the back when she sees the other woman's face turn pink. "Coulda sworn I was more aloof 'fore I met ya."

"Tell that to the Jamie who had her mouth open staring at me at the bus stop," comes Dani's mocking snort, and Jamie feigns an offended scoff in response.

"In my defence, I was confused!"

"Yeah, and if you were confused, you couldn't have been 'aloof', Jamie."

"Don't get smart with me," Jamie warns, but there's not even the slightest bite to her words. She gives the hand in hers a bit of a squeeze, her wide grin falling into a tender curve when Dani turns to look at her. "Have you thought about what I said? About you staying at the manor?"

"I've thought about it," Dani offers as a non-answer, although she doesn't keep Jamie waiting for too long. "I'll have to make sure everyone's okay with it, you know. I think I'll give Owen a heart-attack if I just pop in uninvited."

"Ah, he'll get over it." Inside her pocket, Jamie runs a thumb across Dani's knuckles reassuringly, rubbing across the bone, mapping the skin on the back of her palm. "But I know it means a lot to you, so we'll ask them. Manor's full of vacant rooms, anyway. 'Bout time we add a little bit more life in the damn place."

She watches Dani smile softly at the words—adding a little bit more life, she'd said, because she knows Dani feels as alive as the rest of them, reality be damned. Jamie can see her, talk to her, touch her, and semantics can throw itself right out the window. 

They continue their walk in comfortable silence, forging a path along the winding streets until they reach the gravel driveway. Jamie doesn't know if she's just being cheesy, but the manor looks... _perfectly splendid,_ Jamie thinks to herself, smiling crookedly as she eyes the sunlit dew coating the lawn and making it sparkle under the warmth of dawn. Dani's about as struck as her by the sight, too, if the stunned gasp to her side is any indication.

"If I may," Jamie starts with a cough, "Don't think I've ever seen the grounds this pretty. Maybe 'cos you're here, now."

"Jamie, that's _awful_ ," Dani laughs, giving her a shove and Jamie fucking _preens_ under the attention; hell, she can't even find it in herself to be mad for taking pleasure in the way Dani's looking at her like she's the most annoyingly adorable person in the world, two words that Jamie never thought she would ever associate with herself... and yet here she stands, close to brimming with pride under Dani's blue eyes. "You'll have to try a bit harder than that, Miss Taylor."

"Psh, you love it," Jamie teases, leaning forward and feeling even _more_ smug (if that's even possible) when the proximity causes Dani to flush completely, to startle out of her own playful smile as her eyes roam Jamie's face. "You adore it, in fact—"

"Jamie! Dani!"

Oh, most times she truly adores Rebecca, but today, _today_...

"Good morning, Becca," Jamie greets, settling back on her heels and turning to face her friend. Rebecca's eyes stray to the hand still tucked into Jamie's pocket, brow hitching up in inquiry, but Jamie thinks she'll let her simmer for a bit. "What're you doin' up this early?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing! I was just—"

And then another voice rings across the morning air: "Rebecca?" Jamie's face _immediately_ sours, her mood doused by blatant dislike. She straightens up, lips set in a fine line, as she sees Peter Quint making his approach from whatever circle of hell he came from. "Oh. You."

"Quint," Jamie says, lip curling in distaste. "Thought I told you to keep away from the Manor."

"You're not the lord of the house," Peter points out, and her entire body flashes cold with revulsion when he sizes her up. She feels Dani's hand tighten ever so slightly around hers, and it's the only thing keeping her from decking the smug bastard's face, anchoring her fists into her pockets. "Besides, I was just leaving."

"Try never comin' back, yeah?"

"It seems my words failed to reach your dense little head." Peter towers over her when he inches close, daring, but Jamie keeps her head held high, chin jutting out as she matches his glare with equal fire. "You're not the lord of the house. I don't care for your opinion. You're just the groundskeeper, so get out of my way."

"Peter..." Jamie only barely hears Rebecca's pleading, blood pounding in her ears when Peter marches beside her—the side Dani is on. He passes through her completely, unaware of her presence, and the fingers folded between Jamie's own fizzle out of existence, only to reform a few inches away, thrown by the momentum. Rebecca gasps beside her, only faintly registering as something sharp and furious and _crimson_ flashes at the corners of her vision.

"Watch where you're fucking going, mate!"

"I didn't touch you, did I?" He doesn't even bother looking at her, the bastard, doesn't bother looking at anyone else as he marches further away. 

Jamie feels something viscous lodged at the back of her throat, lashing out and crashing on the back of her teeth, rattling with the kind of loathing she keeps reserved just for him. "If you ever come back here again—"

"What are you gonna do, gardener? Shoot me with a pellet gun?"

"Would serve ya right, you bloody rat!" As his form disappears around the treeline, Jamie brings a hand up to massage the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the tightness forming behind her eyes, the other clenching and unclenching in the safety of her pocket. Her mouth twists into something angry and bitter as she says, "Becca, love, _why_ do you have to keep dating _him_ of all people? You deserve better than that prat."

"He's not usually this prickly," Rebecca answers, and Jamie wishes she can stay angry, but the au pair is one of her closest friends, and that makes her a little (a lot) more forgiving. "Him and Henry are fighting, I think. He won't tell me what he did."

"He's _always_ this prickly, Becca. Ever since that night with Owen." Jamie takes a deep breath to still the anger vibrating in her bones, throbbing deep. She turns to Dani, trying to force away the deep crease forming between her eyebrows. "You alright, Poppins?"

Rebecca follows suit, adding, "Yeah, Dani, I'm sorry about him."

"I'm fine," Dani answers, offering a small smile that pushes away the last of Jamie's irritation. She watches patiently as Dani makes her hesitant approach, and when she reaches out, Jamie immediately takes her hand, both sighing in relief when their fingers are able to lace together without any further issues. "He's... quite something."

"That's one way to put it," Jamie mutters under her breath.

"I'll talk to him," Rebecca offers hesitantly, thrown by the interaction but looking grateful when Jamie offers a shrug in response, because for all Rebecca's poor taste in beaus, Jamie _cares_. 

"Just be safe," Jamie sighs, placing a free hand on the au pair's shoulder and giving it a gentle, apologetic squeeze. "Sorry if I snapped. You know I just worry... and I dunno about you, but he's got a way of burrowing under the skin like a maggot."

"I know."

"Right. Think I've had enough talk of Quint for one day," Jamie adds with a wince, motioning towards the front doors of the Manor with a cock of her head. "This calls for tea, I think."

[ 👻 ]

"You should've decked him!" Owen's declaration is loud enough to cause Dani to whirl around from her spot by the fireplace, Flora curled up beside her with a book opened between them. When he notices the interruption, he waves his hand, encouraging them to return to their reading, and when they don't budge, he finally relents with a sigh. "Look. We've all agreed that Rebecca deserves better than him, right?"

"Trust me, Owen, as much as I would _love_ to give the fucker a bloody nose, I'm not gonna take Becca's choice away from her," Jamie interrupts, nursing the glass of wine close to her chest in the hopes that it'll calm the persistent itch on her knuckles. "She's a person. She deserves to have a say in the matter."

"I know, I know, but maybe we can speed things along, you know? Chase him away?"

"We've tried everything, mate. Are we gonna forget the snake you hid in _my_ rosebush?" Jamie frowns at the memory. After another day of dealing with the desecration Quint had left her plants in, Owen had devised the perfectly infallible ploy of sticking a snake in her roses to scare him into keeping his filthy paws to himself. Like many things in Bly Manor, it had all gone to complete and utter shite—Jamie had returned to haphazardly shorn bushes, and the snake was nowhere to be found. "We still haven't found the poor thing. I mean, it probably returned into the woods, but what if it didn't?"

"That means there's a snake in the manor," she hears Miles whisper conspiratorially, and Hannah lets out a disapproving note from her spot by the couch.

"Don't go spooking your sister now," the housekeeper warns, flashing a glance Owen and Jamie's way. "Or the help."

"Did you know that snakes exist in every continent in the world instead of Antarctica," Flora pipes up. "Miss Clayton, what would happen if snakes were brought to Antarctica?"

"Oh, well, snakes are cold-blooded, Flora. That means they usually prefer to live in warm environments," Dani answers, startled by the question but responding nevertheless, and the sight makes Jamie's chest squeeze affectionately. "In the winters, they hibernate, so they wouldn't like to live in a place that's always winter."

"I think I would quite like to be a snake," comes Flora's next comment, causing the ring of adults to snicker quietly. "Sleep all day when it's cold and wake up when it's warm. It would be perfectly splendid!"

"Jamie," Owen whispers, and Jamie turns back over to her friend, setting her now empty glass down on the surface behind them. "What about... hm, maybe Dani could freak him out a bit? Scare him into running away, tail tucked between his legs?"

"Ah, well." Jamie scratches at the back of her neck awkwardly. She's entertained the thought before, but after what happened... "Peter can't see Dani. Right after the confrontation, he just walked right through her. Damn near launched a foot into his shin when he did, but—well, he didn't see her."

"Curious." She watches as Owen rub his chin thoughtfully, peering at the blonde as she continues to humour Flora's questions. Jamie follows his gaze, hazel eyes softening at the sight of Dani pointing to a line on the book. "I'd assumed it was the Manor that let us see her—you know, old grounds, long history, probably haunted itself, but if there's someone that can't see her on the grounds, then it couldn't be that, could it?"

"Yeah, but maybe Peter just isn't like us."

"That's because he isn't part of the family," Hannah offers quietly, sparing a glance down the hall and noticing that Rebecca is making her approach—she wouldn't want the au pair to hear, naturally, although it wouldn't be something Rebecca hasn't already thought of, herself. When she speaks again, her voice is louder. "Still, this is quite the case we have, isn't it?"

"What case?" They all turn as Rebecca finally reaches them, wrapped in comfortable clothes and hair damp from her recent shower.

Jamie keeps her voice low, mostly so that the children wouldn't overhear. She isn't certain how they would take finding out that their new American friend is... well. "You saw what happened, didn'ya? Peter couldn't see Dani."

"It's kind of hard to miss, but go on."

"Well, Owen—" Jamie stops when she hears Flora let out a thrilled laugh, pulling Miles down to the ground with her and allowing Dani to join their impromptu huddle. A small smile lingers on her face when the woman takes up the spot next to her, standing close enough for their shoulders to touch. The aura is still there, two contrasting levels of temperature, but she's since learned to welcome the oddity. "Right, well, Owen was under the impression that maybe we can see Dani because of the Manor... or maybe because we live in the Manor."

"Listen, we know this place has deep roots," Owen explains, looking between the four of them. "Long shadows are cast on this place coming straight from the past. If there's any place a ghost could have more powers, it would be this place."

"But Jamie didn't meet me in the Manor the first time," Dani butts in politely. "She met me at the bus stop."

"I know it's a bit of a reach but it's all we have right now. Other than that, I'm not quite sure how any of us—" Owen motions to the circle of five. "—can see you, too. Maybe Jamie was meant to draw you here."

"By who?" Jamie leans against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest, admittedly a little unnerved by the idea that something could have used her to draw Dani to the Manor. "Who'd even want Dani to come here? And for what?"

"Have you considered checking the gravestones by the church?" Everyone turns to face Rebecca. "I mean, maybe there's something significant there. Do you have any ties to this place, Dani?"

"No," Dani answers after a beat, "I don't think so, at least. I don't exactly... remember much about my past life. Only fragments. I'm sorry."

"What're you apologizing for, Poppins?" At Dani's defeated look, Jamie inches forward, slowly looping her arm around Dani's and tugging her closer.

"It's just... I can't remember a lot of things about my life before. It's frustrating. I keep trying to reach back and recall but I—" The arm in her grasp tenses, and Jamie lowers her hand until it's clasped in Dani's, thumb bumping across her knuckles in reassuring circles. She watches, lips pressed together in a patient line, as Dani takes a deep breath before continuing. "It's like my own mind doesn't want me to remember. Every time I try, it hurts—it's like something's keeping me from remembering it."

"If that's the case, know that we won't force you into doing anything that will hurt you," Hannah says, and her words are met with an agreeing nod from the rest of the circle. "The answers will come when we're ready to find them. For now, ghost or not, we're here for you, Miss Clayton."

Jamie can clock what emotions wash over Dani's face at the reassurance: there's disbelief, then awe, followed shortly by something she can only describe as adoration for the collection of misfits that occupy Bly Manor. Jamie can't deny that she feels comforted that her friends, despite the circumstances, have accepted Dani so willingly and so openly. Any other person would have reacted differently—a ghost, after all, is not a frequent form of company, but it's clear from Owen's kind smile, Hannah's warm eyes, Rebecca's easy grin that they see her as so much more. They see her as Jamie sees her, not just a phantom of the past, a remnant of what could habe been. Dani stands with them in the present, and it's easy enough to see her lingering in flashes of the future, too, and isn't that what defines being alive? To exist within each other's lives, bonds pulsing through the endless blanket of time? "S'true, Poppins. You're stuck with us."

"Thank you," Dani manages to utter out, Jamie watching adoringly as her lips spread into a watery smile. "Thank you, I thought—I never could have imagined I'd have this, after everything that's happened. I... thank you."

"You know," Rebecca suddenly interrupts, slinking forward and linking their arms together; she smiles easily, freely, hardly bothered by the idea of what Dani is and Jamie's _happy_. Happy that, for all the crazy shite they've seen the past few days, they're all able to bounce back so quickly. "You mentioned the other day about your daily routines? Maybe you can stay here instead of the park. I'd love some help with the kids. They seem to be completely enamoured by you already, anyway."

Jamie's grin widens at the offer.

"I'm _aghast_ we haven't offered earlier," Owen adds with a self-satisfied smile, causing a litany of groans to make their rounds. "Without you, I'm afraid this manor will become awfully _boo_ -ring."

And just like that, everything clicks into place, Jamie playfully hissing, "Bugger off, Sharma," before launching forward to bat lightly at his shoulder. He keeps her at bay with a palm to her face, pushing without really _pushing_ , and he might be taller but she's certainly faster, and she ducks under his arm and feigns a takedown, although really she just gets him to take a step back. He musses up her hair when they disentangle, and Jamie huffs to dislodge the stray curl hanging between her eyes. "Insufferable prat."

When she turns back to Dani, Jamie finds that she's staring at them with such warm, mirthful eyes that it nearly roots her to the spot. Vaguely, she can hear Rebecca whisper something teasing to Hannah, but any irritation from the goading falls flat against the surge of affection lodged between her ribs. Jamie steps closer, pace slow because she feels like if she moves too suddenly, the thick _something_ that's filled her to the brim might start pouring out, and reaches out again—always an offer, a question, never demanding any touches Dani herself isn't willing to part with.

Dani takes her hand without hesitation.

"If it's okay with everyone, I'd love to stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've finally got a clear view of where we're headed, it's now only a matter of being able to procure enough words to get there, and that's the hard part when you have a single brain cell to your name, worse when said brain cell has the same processing power as a potato. either way, now i truly wonder whether anyone can anticipate where this fic is headed yet 🤔


	11. i just wanna feel something, i just wanna feel (something really real so that i can really feel like a person again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "feel something" by bea miller

There's no other way to describe life in the manor with Dani in it other than magical.

The Wingrave kids are smarter than they usually let on, naturally; it takes only two weeks until they've guessed that Dani isn't quite like the rest of them. Between the handful of instances of Dani winking out of existence in response to something spooking her and the occasional visitors who aren't able to see her—or worse, _walk right through her_ , it's easy enough to put two and two together... in their way.

One particularly fond memory is of something that they've all decided is "on brand", as Dani puts it: she had been pouring through the contents of the biscuit tin, concentrating on manifesting her fingers into something more corporeal, the dry treat barely an inch off the table when Flora nearly barreled into her, chased by Miles around the kitchen counter. In order to prevent any mishaps, Dani had quickly ducked back—

 _Right through the wall_. 

Owen and Jamie had tried to explain that they must've not noticed Dani step into the hallway to avoid them, but it didn't take long after for the Wingrave siblings to come to their own, individual conclusions. 

Miles had gotten the answer right:

"A ghost," he had said one night in wonder, peering at the empty kitchen Dani had quickly (and supernaturally) vacated in response to a sudden sound from the dark hall—which, once retold, had sent the rest of the manor staff reeling with laughter because who would have _thought_ that a ghost would be afraid of things that go bump in the night? The next morning, Miles had sought her out, reminded her what he saw, and told her that he would keep her secret with a coy salute that he most certainly, without a shadow of doubt, got from Jamie.

Flora didn't quite get there, but her answer had nevertheless been just as valid:

"An angel," she had declared, all dreamy in quality as she clenched her tiny fists to her chest and batted her eyelashes up at Dani, and it was adorable, _truly_. Adorable enough that Jamie had agreed to her observation without checking to see if the rest of her friends were around first—and they had been, and they had teased her _relentlessly_ for the rest of the night, forcing Jamie to tuck her face into Dani's shoulder when they retired to the couch in order to hide her reddening cheeks.

And so October comes with chilly winds that nip at Jamie's face and the strip of skin between her sleeves and her gloves. Somewhere beyond the walls of the greenhouse, the Manor glows with the promise of warmth and comfort and residents who hold no judgements against each other, and something akin to longing lodges in her throat—longing for the company and the fire and the woman helping Rebecca with her lesson plan—but she's almost finished returning her tools to their proper places and, really, it's only a few minutes longer.

Well, it _would_ be only a few minutes, except...

Dani pops into existence next to her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up on end. The sudden change in temperature makes her damn near jump out of her bones, hissing in a fit of adrenaline-infused panic, "Christ, Poppins, warn a girl."

"Sorry," the blonde offers sheepishly, ducking her head down before, almost on instinct, shooting forward to catch Jamie's hand in hers. Jamie doesn't bother to fight a smile from erupting on her lips at that, heartbeat settling into a steady pace at the point of contact. "You've been out here for so long, and I—well, I figured you might want some company," she adds as an afterthought, causing the gardener's head to bob once in understanding.

"Mmhm, and Rebecca's lesson plan for the _Wingremlins_?" Jamie lowers the tools back on the table, leaning against the edge of it to face Dani fully. In the dim light, Jamie thinks that Dani's nose and cheeks might have gone pink from the cold—as pink as her jumper, almost—and it's one of the most endearing things she's ever had the opportunity to lay eyes on.

"Two weeks' worth of lessons done," Dani answers, looking mighty pleased with herself, until... "Okay," she relents after a breath, "A week and a half's worth of lessons done, but it's more than what we started with."

"And I, for one, am proud of you," Jamie states earnestly, tracing a cursive figure across Dani's knuckles before reluctantly letting go. "I'm just about done here, Poppins. Mind handin' me the spade by your hip?"

Jamie doesn't even realise what she's asked until seconds pass, seconds where she turns to Dani, wondering what's taking her so long, only to find herself staring into pensive blue eyes.

And then it hits her.

"Ah, right, sorry, totally forgot—"

"No, I can do it," Dani interrupts, resolve lathered across her words as she makes a display of straightening her back and setting her shoulders wide. Following another resolute nod in response to Jamie's cocked eyebrow, she leans back against the table to observe Dani's attempt, admittedly amused by the sight of Dani chewing lightly on her bottom lip and focusing hard on the tool.

Dani's been able to pick up relatively light materials—biscuits, crisps, paper, pencils, and the like. She tries hard to make it happen, often separated from the world around her as she reaches out and attempts to lift something into the air, and it works for the most part. Heavy items, however, she continues to struggle with. Dani never tries to let her own frustration show, but Jamie can see it in the hard edges of her lips, the flicker of irritability in her eyes. In all honesty, Jamie wishes that she can do something to help; it's clear that it means a lot to Dani, and Jamie's nothing if not supportive, but they both know that, ultimately, the most Jamie can do is to be there for her when she tries, when she succeeds, and even when she fails. Especially when she fails.

Jamie watches closely as Dani's fingers finally wrap around the wooden handle, tightening by small increments until her grip is sure around the material. Before she can attempt to move it, however, Dani flashes her a look—a _pleading_ look, Jamie realises with a start, not pleading for her but pleading for the universe to let her have this. It breaks her heart, to see Dani's sense of self teetering on whether she can lift a gardening tool or not, but Jamie understands, to an extent, why it _matters_.

The spade lifts off of the table.

Dani has since turned back to it, concentrating on where her skin is meeting wood. A part of Jamie is tempted to reach out for it, to take it before Dani's corporeality runs out and declare a quick victory, but she knows that she can't because this isn't just about the ability to relocate bloody objects from one place to another; no, this is about Dani being able to see for herself that she's—

The spade drops and Jamie has to jump back to avoid it landing on her foot.

"I'm sorry—" Dani immediately says, eyes wide as she looks at the spade on the floor, then looks at her hand in frustrated disbelief. All the while, Jamie can see that she's pointedly not looking up at her, and when Jamie steps closer, she finds that tears are springing at the edges of her eyes, furiously trying to blink them away. "I—God, did I hit you? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—I—"

"Poppins," Jamie calls out, lowering her voice because she knows, she's seen it and she _knows_ , that anything too loud might cause something to break. Slowly, she steps closer, watching Dani closely and making sure that she's showing no signs of wanting her to keep away. Step by step, she crosses the space between them, holding her breath until Dani's within arm's reach.

"I shouldn't have done it," she hears Dani whisper, eyes still glued to the ground between Jamie's feet. "I shouldn't have—I couldn't—"

"C'mere," Jamie murmurs back, extending a hand between them. For a fleeting second, she's worried that Dani might flee; she's done so before, and while Jamie doesn't at all blame her for wanting to find a quiet place to weep, she also worries deeply because Dani doesn't deserve to feel like there's no one she can turn to, but when Dani's rapid steps are headed for her instead of away, she opens her arms and waits.

Dani crashes into her, and the sensation alone of being able to touch something that doesn't pass through her hands is enough to make her sob into the crook of Jamie's neck. Jamie catches her without a second thought, arms folding around her waist and anchoring her close, nose burying into blonde hair that has started smelling like the garden itself.

"You got it up, Poppins," she whispers softly, one hand rising to press deep, comforting circles into Dani's back—a reminder that she can touch her, that she's real, because she knows by now it's what Dani fears. The arms thrown around her neck tightens, the sobs coming harder and louder, and Jamie holds her through it. "You got it up and you got it moving. I'm so proud of you, Dani."

Dani doesn't say anything for a while, just presses closer, and Jamie tugs gently at a lock of hair before hooking it behind a flushed ear. "It's hard," Jamie continues quietly, never making a move to pull herself away. "But you're getting better at it every day. I've seen it. We all do."

She leans forward and kisses a reminder over Dani's temple, because while some reassurances can be conveyed through words, others—others, Jamie would rather Dani feel them than just hear them.

"You're here," Jamie whispers against her skin, lips tracing each word and hoping that Dani catches them and keeps them close. "You're here, Dani. As long as you want to, you're here and you're real. I know it."

She'll say it every fucking day if she has to. She'll say it every fucking day if it means that Dani knows how much she means to her.

Because it's a lot. It's a lot and, goddamn it, Jamie should be _terrified_ , but she isn't—because it's _Dani_. What is there to worry about? What is there to fear? Ever since Dani quite literally popped into her life, Jamie's felt the most stable she has in fucking years. She can't even remember why she bothered with boring. She can't even remember why she'd been afraid in the first place.

Standing with Dani in the greenhouse of Bly Manor is the most right she's felt in her entire lifetime.

She wants Dani to _know_ that.

"You feel this?" Jamie takes one of Dani's hand—Jamie's trembling, fucking _trembling_ —and places it above her chest before covering it with her own. When Dani's eyes widen, feeling the rapid hammering of Jamie's heart against the palm of her hand, Jamie can only nod, too taken by the realization blooming on Dani's face; to feel rather than to hear what Jamie is begging to say.

Dani leans forward, pressing the side of her face into Jamie's chest—to feel Jamie's heartbeat against her cheek, and Jamie cradles her close, eyes falling shut as the weight of the situation comes bearing down on her: what she's feeling for Dani is stronger than anything she's ever known, bowling her completely off her feet, and she wants it. She _wants_ it. Jamie has never wanted anything so much for so long, but _now_...

Jamie lowers her head and drops a kiss on the crown of Dani's head, revelling in the warmth blooming between them.

_I think you're all I've ever wanted, Poppins._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update was supposed to be reserved for next week but, i figured, why not post it now? it's there, it's written, it's done, and come next week, we'll be prepared to greet our first major revelation. enjoy some fluff. we can never have too much fluff.
> 
> while you're here, hope you don't mind if i plug my newest blyfic 😉
> 
> if you like dani and jamie, lesbians, found family tropes, that one trope where character a is gently reprimanding character b while washing their wounds, jamie and dani totally being 1000% gay for each other, an E rating, and PIRATES, i've got a new fic up called la cathédrale engloutie that might be right up your alley!
> 
> go ahead and give it a shot here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28631598/chapters/70179306


	12. out in the garden where we planted the seeds (there is a tree as old as me)

The evening is impossibly lovely and Jamie wants to capture the memory, frame it on the walls of her mind—she hasn't had much in recent years, memories that are worth revisiting, but now, _now_ , she sees them clearly, ringing through the murky abyss of the past and calling to her like sirensong: "We are here," they harmonize, flashes of herself running down the hall with Flora on her shoulders, of Dani's affectionate smile as she ushers the Wingrave kids into their respective rooms, of Miles asking Jamie questions about gardening as she clears branches from the chapel roof, of sharing wine bottles around a bonfire, of Dani tucking Flora into her bed and weaving tales of adventure until curious eyes glaze over before falling, peacefully, shut.

The night closes around the fireplace, her and Rebecca and Hannah whispering stories well past 10:00 PM.

She stares longingly at the fire, at the ethereal honeyed glow it casts across the sitting room—at the warm tones it bathes Dani in, spread across the sofa and dozing peacefully with her legs strewn across Jamie's lap. One of Jamie's hands is settled comfortably on her shin, the other hanging rubbing patterns across a bare ankle, small but meaningful touches that anchor them to each other.

She thinks, _Life is good_.

And then the weight disappears from her lap. 

Jamie startles, hands falling to where Dani's feet had been only to be met by the material of her own jeans. Something sharp and panicked prods hotly at her chest, but she stifles it down, chooses rationality... except she quickly finds that she's losing that, too, given the wide-eyed looks of Hannah and Rebecca, who must have seen her disappear. 

"Dani?"

Jamie bolts to her feet, whirling around and finding the room barren save for the three of them. "Poppins, I thought you were tired of playing hide and seek," she calls out, voice all hard-edged with something that tastes a lot like worry—a lot like loss. The laugh she lets out one sob short of panic, and in the delirium of it, she starts to march across the winding halls of the manor with Hannah and Rebecca not far behind. "Dani, you're supposed to tell us if someone's the seeker, remember? Dani?"

There's no response.

"I'll check the grounds," Jamie manages to gasp out, pressing a hand to the ache beginning to bloom in her chest, wide-eyed as Hannah and Rebecca nod their affirmation and run down different hallways. She's left at the bottom of the stairs, fingers twisting into her hair as she tries to steel herself, to reign in control because if she doesn't stop—if she doesn't _stop_ , she'll grow inconsolable.

Her breath comes out sharp, and Jamie pushes through the doors of Bly Manor, gravel crunching under the soles of her boots.

[ 👻 ]

Ghosts don't dream.

Because Dani's a ghost, and ghost's don't dream, it only makes sense that Dani doesn't dream and, for a while, she believes that to be the case, too. Every morning after waking up, the only recollection she has is of the night before—there's no period of sleep or flashes of images in-between, there's only yesterday night, then darkness, then the morning after.

Except, Dani dreams. Dani dreams and remembers not a single thing about any of it until...

She's on the couch with Jamie and she _dreams_.

She dreams of a sea of neverending white. It goes on and on, as far as the eye can see, and she can't seem to find the end. It's cold, she briefly recognizes, cold and white and _heavy_.

Her body is lethargic. She can't move.

" _Danielle_."

The voice booms somewhere overhead—Dani can't tell if it's to her left or to her right, can't even _recognize_ which is left and which is right. All she knows is that encompasses the infinity stretching out before her. Her body rattles as it calls again, " _Danielle_ ," voices of different qualities amalgamating into a single

deafening

note.

" _Danielle!_ "

She's on the couch with Jamie... and then she's on the street in front of the bus stop, abandoned in the late hours, immobile as a truck _careens_ through her form—but the sound of a body hitting the bumper rings _sickeningly_ in her ears anyway. Her fingernails bury deep into the heels of her palms until it stings, until it _hurts_ , until the pain is enough to ease the shock rattling in her bones. When she turns around, time slows to a lazy pace, vision sweeping down the road and finding—

Finding nothing, but there's _something_.

There's something there, in the recesses of her mind, blinking the tiniest light.

Every time she's done so before, she's been met with angry teeth warning her to stay away, but now...

Dani closes her eyes and reaches deep within her thoughts, fingers pushing through the thick and lethargic darkness until the light grows closer. A speck, a hole, a door—empty, and then _not_ empty, and then everything is too bright and too hot—

too _painful_ —

 _too much_ —

and then there are voices.

" _I can't do this_ —" The words rise from the pounding din of a headache. She thinks it could be hers, her voice, strained and choked and unfurling at the seams, stitches undone with a level of rapid deterioration.

" _Danielle, please_ —" The other voice pleads, pain prickling down to circle her wrists and nearly jerking her off of her feet. " _Let me make it better. Let me fix it, Danielle, we can fix it._ "

Her limbs burn. Her chest hurts. Her skin feels warm, sticky, not her own.

" _I can't keep living like this. I can't, it's not who I am—_ " The voice fractures at the name, _crackling_ like thunder, deafening her. "— _please, please let me go._ "

" _No_ —"

The teeth tighten around her fingers. A loud sob rips from somewhere deep and primal in her chest.

Through the light, she sees flashes.

A mop of hair.

A pair of glasses.

A disapproving frown.

A ring. A... _ring_?

" _I love you,_ " a voice says, but it's less like a confession and more like a demand, and the words snake around her neck and wrists and struggles to bind her—it's a ring, it's a confession, it's a noose, it's wrongwrongwrong _wrong_ — " _I love you. You love me. Danielle, we can make this work—_ "

Her name sounds like a formality. It's not her name. It's _not_ her name. 

It flashes before her eyes:

" _Danielle, please, don't do this to us, Danielle—_ "

It flashes before her eyes:

A broken heart, the face of a man, blurring at the edges, looking at her pleadingly as she's drawn away. A wedding ring, pressed back into trembling hands. 

A restaurant, patrons staring and whispering and pointing. A crowd, shifting and moving and parting and thrumming. 

A bus stop, dirty and desolate and empty. A truck, screeching and skidding and—

"Dani?"

All at once, the darkness shatters, melting into an endless sea and leaving her feeling naked inside of her own mind. Her eyes finally flutter open, finding Jamie looking at her from the sidewalk through a sheen of unshed tears. The rest of her rigidity crumbles, and Dani runs to Jamie, immediately collapsing into her arms, sobs choked through the material of Jamie's shirt.

She only vaguely registers moving to the bus stop seat.

"Oh, Poppins."

Jamie's voice is the only thing that weaves its way through the white noise. She can feel Jamie's protective hold, the arm snaking loosely around her back, the worried breaths puffing against her temple as a free hand cradles the back of her head.

" _I was right_ ," Dani manages to gasp out through her sobs, pressing her face against Jamie's shoulder. There's a violent tremble to her voice, to her body, and she feels like she might collapse out of existence from the sheer weight of the knowledge. "Jamie, I—Jamie, this is where I—"

Jamie doesn't answer, just hugs her closer. Dani thinks it might be the only thing holding her together.

Time passes. Or maybe time doesn't pass. Dani can't tell anymore, can't tell how long it's been since Jamie arrived. One second, she's curled into Jamie's chest—the next, she's laid out on the seat, her head in Jamie's lap, staring somberly at the patch of asphalt; if she squints, she thinks she can still see traces of her own body strewn across the surface.

"I was running away from someone," she finally says, never taking her eyes away from the spot on the road where she had moved on from one life and onto the next. Jamie continues to say nothing, but the calloused hand carding through her hair is enough to let her know she's listening. A finger brushes against the shell of her ear, and Dani takes a shaky breath to steady herself for the ordeal to come. "I was running away from someone, he—he had a ring, he was proposing, and I didn't want to—"

She still can't remember the name, only the thunderous din. 

"I tried to run. I tried to run away—I came here, all the way across town, I wanted to _get away_ and then the truck—"

Her eyes fall shut, focusing on the fingers on her scalp, the desperate gulps of air raking down her throat, the warmth of Jamie's presence folded around her.

"There was light, and then there was nothing, and then there was the park."

Dani doesn't even notice that a tear has fallen from her eye, tracing a line across the bridge of her nose until Jamie wipes it away. Fingers tug gently at her cheek, and Dani looks up—looks up to see Jamie. Jamie, whose eyebrows are furrowed, looking at her with such a tenderness that Dani thinks she might start crying again.

Of all the times she's shown her true nature to Jamie, this is what Dani has been fearing the most—the reality of their situation sinking in. It was easier to ignore when Dani couldn't remember her death, when Dani could simply pretend like she was a tourist. It was easier when Dani started being real enough that Jamie could touch her, hold her hand, move a lock of hair away from her face, but... Dani is still dead, and Jamie is still alive, and she had thought Jamie would, one day, leave her behind when she realizes, fully, that Dani had died under the wheels of a truck.

Jamie's not looking at her like that.

Jamie's looking at her with a palpable softness, gently running a thumb down the line of her jaw and drawing comforting patterns across her skin, and Dani feels like it's the first time she's breathed in ages. 

"I dreamed," Dani whispers. A bleak part of her wants to twist this truth between them, to save Jamie from—from _her_ , from _Dani_ , from the _pain_ of one day reaching out and grasping at nothing but cold air. Jamie deserves _better_ than this. Jamie deserves someone she can build a future with, someone she can build the rest of her life with. Someone _alive_. "I dreamed of white. Someone was calling my name, calling and calling—I think it might be..."

Heaven, maybe?

Dani doesn't have to say it, sees it register in the way a flash of hurt streaks through Jamie's eyes like lightning. The sight alone causes her own chest to burn, to ache and crack and crumble, and Dani wants to reach out to heal, to soothe—

"Do you want to go?"

The pain in Jamie's voice spears through her gut, waves of pain echoing through every fibre of her existence. The eyes above her have turned hazy, tearful, eyebrows pulled down into an expression of such agony and Dani doesn't know how to _fix_ it. They've gotten so close, so incredibly tangled around each other, that pulling away will only hurt more than it will fix. Every fibre of their being has bridged the gap between them to intertwine that she no longer knows where she ends and Jamie begins.

"Do you want to go?" Jamie repeats the question when Dani doesn't answer, and Dani's own heart cries out at the sound of Jamie's suffering.

She doesn't want to go.

She _never_ wants to go.

Dani shakes her head before she can even verbalise her answer, sitting up to bury her face into Jamie's neck, pressing as close as she can and revelling in the solidity, reminding herself of every time that Jamie has held her close.

She doesn't want to go, she wants to _stay_.

"No," she breathes out, clutching Jamie closer, feeling Jamie's choked sobs rack through her body and god—

Dani _loves_ her.

She clutches at the realisation with trembling fingers, steeling herself around it, using it as a tether to keep herself anchored to warmth and to life and to _Jamie_.

She loves Jamie. She loves Jamie enough that she forces herself through the haze of fear to find that brilliant light Jamie's cast into her life and bask in it, letting her worries about what the future might hold fall away, shedding them piece by piece.

"I want to be here with you," she murmurs softly against Jamie's skin, pressing a kiss to whatever she can reach, because it's too late—it's too late to try and save either of them from the hurt, from the pain that beckons somewhere over the horizon. It's _far_ too late. She loves Jamie. She loves Jamie, and if she has to accept the truth that this can only ever end in hurt in order to _stay here_ , to stay here with _her_ , then so be it.

 _So be it_.

Dani will accept all the pain the universe can carve into her skin if it means spending whatever days she has left with the woman she loves.

"I want to be here with you," she reiterates, words brushed against Jamie's jaw as she presses closer, clinging onto her, hands moving to cup the back of Jamie's neck and toy with the hairs she finds there. Jamie's arms wrap around her waist in kind, pulling at her, foreheads pressed and chests heaving, barely any distance between them at all.

Dani kisses Jamie, and everything else fades away. 

Jamie's lips are soft, searching, yearning as they slide against her own, and Dani feels _alive_. Dani feels alive under the press of Jamie's mouth, in the arms pulling her into a trembling chest, on the taste of mixed tears as each breath they pull between each kiss is interrupted by a sob that neither of them can hold back anymore.

She is reduced into a single point of existence that carries Jamie's name before billowing out to encompass every morning, midday, and evening. Every battle, every struggle, every tear has led up to this—to finding love in the aftermath of oblivion and letting it breathe life anew into her until she is overflowing with it.

Dani kisses Jamie, and she doesn't know what home feels like anymore but she thinks it might be this.

Might be Jamie's lips wrapping around her own, might be Jamie's hands moving up to cradle her jaw as her own twines into her hair, might be Jamie's sobs warming the infinitesimal amount of space between them.

Might be Jamie.

Even as they separate to pull air into burning lungs, Dani is drawn, magnetised, planting kiss after kiss on Jamie's lips and receiving more in return. "I want to be home with you," she whispers against Jamie's tear-stained cheek, sinking further into her arms until she can tuck her face back into Jamie's shoulder. "You're home to me."

Another kiss is pressed to the skin behind her ear, warm and loving, and Dani doesn't know how to swallow the lump that has lodged itself in her throat. All she can do is cry—cry for the life she has lost, cry for the love she has found, and cry for the seconds they have in-between.

Cry for herself and cry for Jamie and cry for them both.

"You're home, Dani," Jamie whispers against her hair, and when Dani pulls back to look at her, thumbs are on her cheeks, lovingly wiping the dampness away even when Jamie's own continues to glisten. "You're home."

Dani kisses Jamie, and maybe she doesn't know what being alive is anymore, but she knows love, and it's _this_.

Love is _this_. 

Love is Jamie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😢
> 
> chapter title is from the song "to build a home" by the cinematic orchestra—which i do recommend listening to before, during, or after reading this
> 
> oh, and a playlist for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/42BbwgYRfE6CwmX8bsPZnA?si=zDq0EYhDSkW9HhZd58EHVg
> 
> either way, i can't talk right now, i'm doing hot girl shit  
> (jump-cut to me absolutely bawling as i listen to the song on repeat and think about dani and jamie and dani with jamie)


	13. pour oil on these flames / speed up my heart again (don't you know you're standing in the way of the light?)

"How is she?"

Jamie sighs quietly, slipping past the door to Dani's room to address the pair waiting patiently in the hallway. "She has it rough," she answers honestly, running a hand through her hair and trying to shake away the last, receding wisps of hurt. "It's... it's hard shite, I'm not gonna pretend otherwise. It's rough, but I'm here for whatever she needs. Always."

Hannah flashes her a gentle look of concern. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, I—" Jamie stops herself from continuing the blatant lie, steeling what nerves she has left to force the truth out, rip it out of her chest if she has to. "S'rough for me too," she admits with a shake of her head, bouncing ceaselessly on her heels, running the back of her thumb across the bottom of her nose to stifle the sniffing sound she makes. "But she's there for me. Don't think she realises how much, to be honest, but she's..."

Jamie pauses, considering her words, because she's tried so many times before to verbalise the strength she draws from Dani but it never comes out right. Perhaps there are no words that can communicate it. Perhaps it transcends descriptions.

"She means so much to me," she murmurs quietly, slipping her hands through her pockets—but her shorts have no pockets, and she ends up tugging at the hem instead, nails scratching against loose threads. "I know what I'm getting myself into, so if you try and say—"

"We know," comes Rebecca's whisper, and Jamie looks up to her friends, astonished. "We're not blind, Jamie. We see the way you look at her."

"I—" Jamie shakes her head. "I—no, you see the way I look at her but... it's more. God, Becca, it's _more_."

She looks over her shoulder then, past the open doorway, landing fondly on the figure curled on the bed. Dani's face is lax again, golden hair brushing against her cheeks before splaying out across the pillows underneath her—a vision, mesmerising, enthralling—a sight Jamie commits to her memories, sears to the back of her eyelids because one day, she doesn't know when but _one day_ , Dani will _have_ to go and Jamie will want to remember her long after she's gone.

It's bittersweet, the revelation, but Jamie has no doubt now. All that matters is now, and every fleeting _now_ after that. One day at a time is all they have, and one day at a time is fine for Jamie.

She'll cherish each moment spent in Dani's orbit, spinning and spinning and spinning around her warmth with abandon. One day, a star will die and fling Jamie into the abyss, no gravity to keep her pinned, but Jamie will soar through the neverending darkness with the memory of love on her lips, and it'll be enough.

More than enough.

"We should let you sleep," Hannah says, breaking through her reverie and squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. Rebecca rushes forward and hugs her, hugs her tight, hands rubbing up and down her back before pulling away.

Jamie can only nod, oddly mute, dipping her head in farewell before retreating back into Dani's bedroom. She listens for their footsteps to recede, back pressed against the closed door, pulling deep breaths into her lungs and struggling to keep them there. In the end, she lifts her hands and rubs at her closed eyes, sighing shakily into her palms.

It's so much more that Jamie could have ever anticipated. She never would have, _could_ have, imagined that she'll feel so much for one person, and yet here she stands, trembling in the chill of night, looking at Dani's sleeping form and knowing in her heart that she never wants to lose her. Ever. The universe can fight her, tooth-and-nails, and Jamie will fight back with all the life she's got left in her—Jamie will fight for Dani.

Even if the universe wins, Jamie will keep fighting for Dani—keep fighting, even if it's only her memory left to cherish. 

She crosses the distance between them, crawling into the empty space of the bed she'd vacated and turning around to face a sleeping Dani—except she's not sleeping, not anymore. Hooded blue eyes are quietly watching her, thick with a sleepy haze but burning with warmth nevertheless. A hand reaches out between them, searching, and Jamie meets it with her own, threading their fingers together.

"Should be sleepin'," Jamie murmurs thickly, inching closer until there's only a small pocket of air separating their faces. "You've had a rough day, Poppins."

"I know," comes the hummed response. She watches as Dani closes the distance between them until their foreheads are brushing together, nuzzling deeper into her pillow. "Just wanted to hold your hand."

 _You're holding more than my hands,_ Jamie wants to say. _You're holding my heart, too_.

"It's yours," Jamie says instead, but its meaning is about the same— _it's yours, Dani, all of me is yours_.

Slowly, Dani pulls on their linked palms, closer and closer until the warmth of her breath spills across the back of it. Jamie watches, heart fit to burst in her chest, as Dani lifts her head and presses her lips to the bony ridges of Jamie's knuckles.

"I love you," Jamie gasps, too caught by the sight to notice that she's verbalised the single thought that has been playing on loop in her brain until Dani's blue eyes, warm and deep and infinite, sweep up to bore into hers.

"You love me?" 

There could have been better ways to say this: over dinner, at a park, under the brilliant sky—hell, the back of her truck could be surprisingly romantic if laden with enough blankets and pillows. There could have been better ways to say this... but, in the end, there couldn't have been, because the location doesn't matter so much as the euphoric look on Dani's face when she pitches forward to kiss her.

And Jamie kisses her back, each truth she's held burning behind each slide of lips, each part of her heart given in each flash of teeth. She imagines a fragment of her own existence finding a place within Dani's chest and making a home there, imagines receiving the same; it's the only way she can explain the vibrance thrumming with every pass of her tongue against Dani's, every heated breath puffed between slick mouths and unravelling smiles.

"I love you too," Dani murmurs against her, and Jamie captures the sound and breathes it in, lets it settle deep in her chest where she can keep the memory of it forever.

The weight of the afternoon still settles on their shoulders like a vice, and they know it won't go further than this—not tonight, at least, but it's more than enough when Jamie feels Dani's nose nudge endearingly against her own.

Jamie watches reverently as the lines on Dani's face soften, as her lips go slack, as her eyes fall shut later that night. She irons the sight into her memories, too, falling asleep to the warmth of Dani's breath puffing across her face.

[ 👻 ]

Jamie doesn't know how she used to manage sleeping without Dani curled up next to her.

When she comes to at the crack of dawn, it's lulled by a sense of comfort and tranquillity. There's a weight on her left shoulder, another strewn across her torso, a third across her legs, and the sweet scent she's come to associate with Dani clues her in on who exactly is huddled next to her. Jamie opens her eyes and confirms this for herself, seeing only locks of gold lit up by the sunlight filtering in from the window. Her left arm seems to have pulled Dani close in sleep, curled comfortably around her back, and the other is thrown above her head, flexing idly around nothing but air.

The arm Dani's on is numb from shoulder to fingertips. Jamie can hardly feel the torso it's wrapped around, but her digits are tenderly pressed into the slice of skin where Dani's shirt has ridden up in sleep, so Jamie doesn't mind losing the feeling there. She'll deal with the pins-and-needles after with as much grace as a bull, sure, but for now, it's worth it to have Dani so close.

She brings her other hand down instead, fingertips skating down the forearm wrapped across her stomach, all the way down to the bump of Dani's wrist before moving back up. Jamie repeats the motions lazily, letting herself relax into the mattress, relishing the sensation of Dani's weight on her.

She doesn't even know how long she spends the morning like that, lounging around in bed and simply enjoying the feel of tracing lines up and down Dani's arm. Time loses its meaning, forces it to be forgotten—time moves against her, anyway, and the longer she can pretend that it doesn't exist, the better.

"Hm, that feels nice," comes the slurred murmur brushing against her neck, just above the collar of her shirt, and Dani's arm tightens around her. A warm puff, a deep sigh, a whisper of lips on her skin; Jamie wants so badly to capture that sound in hers. "Keep doing it?"

"So demanding," Jamie teases softly, burying her nose into Dani's hair and resuming the ghost-light touches up and down her arm. Dani presses closer in response, burying her face in the crook of Jamie's shoulder and neck, each breath deep and warm against her.

Her eyes fall shut, comforted, each pass of her fingers causing the weight above her to fall slack once more. When Dani's breath steadies, asleep, Jamie doesn't hesitate to fall back asleep with her—

"Miss Clayton!"

_Fucking hell._

The door slams open to reveal Flora, buzzing excitedly far too early in the morning, and Jamie has to stifle her frustrated groan against the back of her hand. Beside her, Dani finally stirs, shakily pushing herself up on her arms to peer at the young eight-year-old peering at them from the hall. Jamie doesn't fail to realise that she already misses the tangle of limbs, the press of Dani's face against her neck, the sound of gentle sighs in sleep.

"Oh, you slept over, that's perfectly splendid!" Flora crosses into the room, hopping up and down, and Jamie would be irritated if Flora isn't so adorably happy to see her. "Oh, does this mean you'll be joining us today?"

"Joinin' us where?" Jamie finally sits up, shaking out her unruly curls—there's a snort of laughter beside her, and Jamie pins Dani with a playful glare. "Somethin' funny over there, Poppins?"

"Nothing," Dani acquiesces with a wide smile. "Just... happy. Very happy."

And _that_ , that melts Jamie.

Her shoulders relax, unguarded, grinning wide in return. "So am I, Poppins," she confesses softly, and there's more to the look in her eyes than just the fondness she feels tightening around her chest. Something that's unsaid but increasingly palpable between them anyway. "So am I."

"The trail," Dani says back, and— _wait a second_.

"The..." Jamie's face shifts between different levels of confusion before realizing, _ah_ , "Oh, you mean—you're headed to the— _oh_."

"No, _we're_ headed to the trail," Flora interrupts with a happy sigh, approaching the bed and clambering onto the mattress. Jamie makes way for her, grinning despite herself as the young girl slips between her and Dani before collapsing, arms spread out, over the covers. "Oh, it's going to be delightful! There will be flowers! You know flowers, right, Miss Jamie? Can you tell me what all of them mean? Oh, is there a flower for when everything is—"

"Perfectly splendid?" Jamie finishes knowingly, sharing a light look with Dani and laughing. "Yeah, I reckon there's a flower for that too, Flora."

Later, when sensation returns to her numb left arm, Jamie can't even find it in herself to get upset about it. She'll gladly take every morning suffering through pins and needles if it means she'd spent those mornings with Dani.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "standing in the way of the light" by birdy
> 
> here's some fluff to soothe the hurt from yesterday uwu
> 
> i know i dipped for like a few days, sorry! if you came here first instead of the runaway bride/roadtrip au, i was caught in the process of moving so. been rough, ngl. but we're back now, with at least three more chapters already written, and a total of five chapters left to go!
> 
> next update will feature a bit of a doozy (at least, i hope it is AGDKDHAJ), are y'all ready???


	14. i've never seen your eyes so bright / and every time you cry for light (i'm rushing for your hand / and i will hold it for a million lives)

Dani's breath-taking.

The observation stuns Jamie into silence, tracing the sight of Dani throwing her head back in melodic laughter.

She's walking ahead with Rebecca, swapping tales and keeping the occasional eye on Flora and Miles as they chase each other around the group. Her cheeks are dappled by the sun filtering in through the canopy, colouring her face with spots of light, and Jamie's well-aware of the fond press of her heart against her chest, unfurling like a flower in bloom and filling her, inch by inch, with the kind of love she doesn't even know what to do with anymore.

It fills every nook and cranny of her existence with thick, lethargic endearment, pressing comfortably against her jagged edges and sanding them down, soothing them until they are little more than a low burn that Jamie could finally set aside in favour of—

Of the future.

Of possibility.

Of Dani.

Dani, with her hair half-braided out of her face and half-tumbling down her shoulders. Dani, with her eyes bluer than the fucking skies and shining mirthfully as Hannah beckons them over to the picnic tables dotting the riverbank. Dani, with her growing smile as she realises that Jamie's looking at her.

Jamie doesn't notice the wistful tear in her own eyes until Dani's walking over to her with a look of concern on her face, murmuring softly, "Hey, Jamie, what's wrong? Is everything okay?" And Jamie can only laugh, except it also sounds like a sob, ducking her head bashfully until Dani reaches up and brushes the tear away with the pad of her thumb, softer than her own. "Hey," Dani calls gently, quietly, rubbing at the rise of her cheek. "Tell me."

Jamie laughs, shakes her head, nuzzles closer into Dani's open palm. "Nothin', s'just dirt in my eye," she jokes lamely, confident that Dani knows it's not as much a lie as it is a poor attempt at humorous misdirection. Confident that Dani knows not to push, not to prod, not to press at the tenderness Jamie feels because she feels like it might burst under the smallest amount of pressure—feels like she might burst anyway from the way Dani's lips turn up into a comforting smile, a smile that presses against the corner of her mouth.

"That must be a lot of dirt then," she hears Dani snort, and Jamie just chuckles some more, fingers seeking out the sleeves of Dani's jacket and pulling her closer. "And here I thought you're used to having dirt everywhere, with what you do for a living."

"We can't all be perfect as you, Poppins," Jamie sighs, pressing a kiss onto Dani's jaw before stepping away—and god, emotions _suck_. Emotions _suck_ and she wants to feel _more_ of them, feel them every minute of every day for as long as can. "C'mon."

Hand in hand, Jamie crosses the distance between them and the rest of the group, picking the side of the table that's facing upstream and tugging Dani down next to her.

It's less of a river than it is a brook. It's a shallow enough stream of water, bubbling and gurgling over smooth, polished black stone. The only other soul in the picnic area that isn't them is a woman with greying hair sitting on a bench in the far corner of the lot, sunglasses on her face but angled towards the distance, mind probably somewhere far away. Other than her, the place is mercifully peaceful, and Jamie takes the time to brace the heels of her palms along the edge of the seat behind her and lean back, basking in the warmth of the sun, seeking passage through the woodland ceiling, and the warmth of the woman beside her, whose passage has already been paved with a pinky crossing the distance between them to tangle with her own.

Distantly, she wonders whether, nearly two months ago, she could have ever anticipated where her life was headed. She had woken up that morning with a petulant truck and an even more petulant second boss—and she, herself, had been petulant towards life, peevish and pettish over deathless tragedies that have haunted her life for as long as she draws breath, but _now_...

Now, she's haunted by another thing entirely, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Jamie looks to the woman beside her again, wanting to commit the way she laughs to memory. It terrifies her, how much she wants to take in—Jamie wants so badly to remember everything about her, to press each fragment of each expression deep into her memories until they leave imprints long after Dani's gone.

Perhaps it's because she has accepted the inevitability of Dani's time on earth that allows her to move forward, to look at Dani and not have to feel a lingering sense of anguish while they're still together. There will be a time for mourning later, Jamie thinks; for now, Dani is _here_ , and if one day at a time is all they have, then Jamie will love her for how many days they do, and then she'll keep loving her for all the days that they don't.

It doesn't have to be a tragedy. After all, what's so tragic about finding a love so powerful that it has transcended all logical sense? 

"Dani," she whispers, smiling apologetically as Dani turns away from Owen's tale across the table. "Can you come with me for a moment?"

"Of course," comes the soft response, likely amused that Jamie would think otherwise, and Jamie takes her hand and leads her closer to the riverbank, finding a spot behind a tree, nestled between twisted roots and clumps of Bishop's Lace.

"C'mere," Jamie murmurs, reaching out for Dani, tracking a thumb across cool knuckles as Dani takes a seat beside her.

For a span of a breath, they simply sit there and mirror each other, pulling their knees to their chest and hugging them closer with their free arms, fingers still laced together and tracing patterns across the back of each other's palms.

Jamie takes the reprieve to make a decision—to share as much as has been shared with her. More than just wanting Dani's existence imprinted into her soul to prove that she has been here, that _Dani_ has been here, Jamie wants to do the same.

She wants to give Dani pieces of herself. It isn't just Dani who's here, it's _them_.

They're here, sitting next to each other on a riverbank, holding hands behind a tree on the outskirts of Bly. They exist in this space, in this time, bound by hands as much as they are bound by hearts. They exist—her and Dani—they exist, and Jamie will etch that fact onto her skin if she has to.

The parts Jamie has gained from Dani and the parts Jamie has lost to Dani, she will carry with her for the rest of her life—not as a death carried like a burden across her shoulders, but a life that has given her the kind of love she'd once thought she never deserved. 

So Jamie leans against the tree behind her, shoulder pressing close to Dani's and feeling every breath that passes between them, and tells her the story of Dennis and Louise, of Denny and Jamie and Mikey, of coal mines and boiling water and burn scars and foster care and wrong crowds and doing time. Each word undoes the bindings keeping parts of her heart intact—and each time, Dani's there, listening patiently and swiping a thumb across the back of her knuckles, smiling as Jamie stitches them back together. 

Because her past isn't something that can be healed by anyone.

Even Dani.

Even Jamie.

Especially Jamie.

No, she knows that parts of her will always be sharp and jagged—a mirror, once broken, can never be truly repaired, but Jamie can put all the parts back together. Jamie can pick up each shard, piece by piece, until everything can fit again, and if she cuts herself on one of the edges, Dani's there to press a kiss to where it hurts; the shard will still be jagged and the cut will still be throbbing, but at least she won't be alone dealing with the aftermath; even if her hands are covered by cuts by the time she finishes putting all of her pieces back together, Dani will be there to wash the blood away and bind each wound with a care that will send Jamie's heart racing with every fleeting touch.

It's more than Jamie could have ever hoped for, finding someone she can be tired around, and when she finishes stitching her patchwork of memories together, she startles to find that she's bound them even better than before.

The parts are hers, the threads are hers, but Dani's there too with every catch stitch, lingering in the spaces between coloured threads, in the gaps between each memory, in the spaces between her fingers. When the tapestry of her life unravels again, it's still the same haphazard collection of memories but it's brighter than it had ever been before, alive with the kind of colour Dani Clayton breathes into everything she graces.

She has given parts of herself to Dani—and Dani has given her parts of herself in return. Maybe she knows this, maybe she doesn't, but when she looks at Dani again, there's understanding alight in her eyes like the break of dawn, spilling across the endless sea of patient-blue.

Dani's hands are laced in both of hers, soothing scars hidden deep beneath her skin, and Jamie kisses her under the shade of the tree.

It's another memory.

They say people die twice in their lifetimes: the first is when they've taken their last breath, the last when their name has been spoken for the very last time.

Dani is caught in-between them: she has taken her last breath, but her name still lingers on Jamie's tongue as she leads both of them back to the table. Jamie knows that she will let Dani go once Dani's ready to move on—once Dani knows _how_ —but for now, she's happy enough to keep saying Dani's name in the hopes that she can still hold her for one more day.

One more day now. One more day tomorrow. One more day after that.

As many singular days that they can manage.

Each time, Jamie's memories of Dani will continue to grow. One day, someday, it will be all that she has left, and she will swathe herself in it and wait until she can follow Dani into the unknown.

[ 👻 ]

She sighs.

The walls are white and pristine and sterile. The air smells too clean, too aseptic, almost oppressive against her tight lungs. She longs for another smoke, riding the tail-end of the last one, but she's tired and she's torn and she's exhausted. The trail is starting to get too long for her. She wonders how long it'll take before she stops being able to visit it completely.

The woman sighs, collapsing back into the chair by the bed and burying her fingers into gray hair, plucking her sunglasses off of her face and hanging it on the collar of her shirt. "There were people on the riverbank today," she starts, voice barely above a rasp as she looks at the bone-thin form curled under the white covers. "Rowdy bunch. There were kids. Someone kept swearing at something."

She thinks back to them—the group of six that had effectively broken her morning before remaking it. 

She wishes she could have basked in their joy, palpable across the picnic yard, but instead it pressed against a thick, glass wall—she can see them reaching, but nothing lands.

Nothing ever lands anymore.

"I think you would've liked them, Danielle," Karen whispers, reaching forward and tiredly slipping her hand into cool, motionless fingers. "I think you would've liked them very much." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i get an "OH SHIT"????
> 
> chapter title is from the song "sad eyes" by milk & bone
> 
> i know it's only been a couple of days since the last update but i got EXCITED
> 
> as you can see, i didn't put how jamie explained her past to dani. honestly, i don't think i could ever do it justice?? the way bly's writers and the way amelia eve delivered it was so, so perfect on its own that i wouldn't be able to—well, i feel like it's better the way it was done in the show. everything about that scene is still branded into the my brain. i love it and i treasure it and i treasure THEM.
> 
> fun fact: bishop's lace/queen anne's lace is a flower that symbolises 'sanctuary', so JDSKSDL
> 
> also... yeah.... so........ SURPRISE????


	15. all those times i tried to make you forget me, you stayed (when i am yours, when we are home)

Most days, Danielle is asleep.

Karen hadn't paid attention when the doctor explained it, refused to find out for herself because—perhaps selfishly—it would be another looming confirmation that she's losing her daughter, bit by bit, over the course of two torturous years. In truth, she's stunned and grateful all the same that Danielle has clung on this long, but she wonders how long they have left before she succumbs.

Danielle doesn't wake often, but when she does, it's usually with the same blank face, the same muted stare. Karen's gotten used to spending a companionable silence with her; anything is worth something, even if it's just empty eyes staring back at her.

Except... the past two months have been filled with as much development as Karen could have ever hoped for.

Although Danielle has stopped waking up as frequently as she had before (it used to be spread about between different times of the day, but now it happens almost exclusively at night or somewhere in the early morning, just before the break of dawn), she has started talking:

"She saw me," Danielle had whispered early in the morning, startling Karen out of her magazine and nearly giving her a heart attack. Too struck by the development, she'd failed to call the doctor, instead leaning closer to listen to what her daughter had to say. "She saw me," Danielle had repeated insistently, voice hoarse from years of disuse, slurred and senseless, but Karen nearly broke into sobs of relief anyway. "Someone finally saw me."

And then she was staring at the far wall again, perfectly expressionless as if nothing had happened, and no amount of coaxing could get the light to return. Still, Karen took it as a positive sign. It didn't seem that Danielle was talking to _her_ necessarily, that she was even aware of Karen's presence in the room with her, but it was the first time she'd said anything in nearly two years. When the doctor came later in the day, he had explained the spike in brain activity—dreaming, he'd said, and dreaming was a good sign.

It meant she was on the road to recovery.

It meant Karen could have her daughter back.

Another time, it was to Danielle whispering, "This ghost..."

Karen had leaned forward when she continued.

"... has a name, and it's Dani."

Danielle had never identified herself as Dani before, and Danielle had never been much of a believer of ghosts other than a passing spook either, but Karen accepted it anyway, slipping her hand into that of her daughter's and nodding, "Danielle. Dani. I could call you Dani, if you like."

Danielle— _Dani_ —did not respond, but it was enough for Karen anyway.

Then, "You promise?" Karen didn't know who she was talking to, didn't care either. She'd simply watched fondly, patiently, her hard edges already dulled by the grief that she had been living with for the past two years. 

Sunday came after.

"She said she wouldn't be here on Sundays." Karen had nearly dropped her coffee. It was the first time Dani displayed a sense of keen awareness of the day of the week, and for a fleeting second, Karen assumed that Dani was finally talking to her, until Dani murmured on after a breath, "She looked for me. She looked for me to talk to me."

"Who did, Danielle?" Karen had cleared her throat, corrected, "Dani?"

No response, but something changed.

From there, a rapid shift occurred—the blank stares started to gain the slightest glimmer of awareness, coming in and out of focus, there one second and gone the next. Dani never moved from where she sat, never said more than a few lines at a time; she always sounded soft, slurred, drunk, almost not completely aware she was speaking in the first place.

Still, it was a development Karen hadn't anticipated but appreciated all the same. Dani had started answering questions in her dream-like state, often only one inquiry at a time before losing focus, losing consciousness, and Karen treasured those days all the same. Dreaming, the doctor had said: Dani was capable of dreaming, and dream she did, and if dreams were closer to reality to Dani's state of mind in recovery, then Karen would entertain them.

"She pretends she doesn't like them, but she does."

"Who?" Karen had brushed a thumb across Dani's cheek on one cold morning, just before the break of dawn. "What doesn't she like?"

"Puns," came Dani's simple, matter-of-fact answer, and then she was gone again.

Over time, Karen grew to enjoy the short, quick bursts of conversations. Dani never remembered what she had said the day before—never showed any recognition towards who she was speaking to—but Karen took what she could get, could only ever be happy that her daughter was slowly but _surely_ coming around.

"She brought me somewhere nice," came another night, Dani turned to one side and staring emptily at the wall over Karen's shoulder. "It was so nice."

"Where did she bring you, dear?"

"She brought me somewhere nice with friends..." She checked out, and Karen had pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Some nights were better, some nights were worse.

One particular memory was of Dani waking up crying, choking, sobbing—inconsolable, and Karen had been stricken by fear until, slowly, the weeping ebbed away into silence. It shook her to her core, and she almost cried herself when the doctor finally burst through the doors to check on her.

He had said everything was fine. Cleary, Dani was not... except, by the next night, she _was_ , murmuring softly about hazel eyes and brown curls and a crooked smile.

On and on and on.

Every other night, Dani would spill something about the adventures she dreamed of—adventures about a woman, about friends, about children, never named but spoken fondly either way until—

Until she does:

"I'm in love with her," Dani whispers, throat thick with a near-endless sleep.

It's three in the morning, and Karen's fighting to stay awake. She had been waiting for Dani to come to, knowing now the usual times Dani would show some semblance of drunk awareness; she leans forward and presses a palm to her gaunt cheek, slips fingers into her bony hands, smiles gentler than she ever has in her entire life before entertaining her with a soft, "Who, dear?"

"A groundskeeper," comes the dreamily slurred answer, Dani's eyes still focused on the far wall and half-empty, half-full. There's an intensity there, a vibrancy that hasn't been there even before the accident, and it glows fiercely under the blank haze, like a fire burning behind a window. "She's so, so nice to me. She means everything to me. I'm in love with her."

"Who do you love?" Karen leans closer, almost desperately.

Dani's eyes are starting to turn again, the fire dying, and Karen wants to cry, wants to beg—

A whisper under her breath.

Karen misses it entirely, almost kicks herself for it. "Danielle?" The light is fading far too quickly. "Dani? Who is it?"

" _Jamie_..."

And _that_ sends a shock coursing through Karen's brain, flashing back to the woman at the riverbank—brown curls, hazel eyes, a crooked smile flashed at the empty air beside her. A young girl screeching her name in delight as the woman picks her up, sets her on her shoulders, and runs around the picnic table. For a second, she can only feel disbelief, because it couldn't possibly be—it couldn't _possibly_ happen, could it? How could it?

Nothing makes sense.

Absolutely _nothing_ makes sense.

But...

Karen leans back from Dani's form, sleeping again, burying fingers into her hair and trying to ease the pounding long enough to think about how she can possibly find the strange woman again.

With a resolute nod to herself, Karen bolts to her feet and marches towards the nearest Nurse's Station, asking for groundskeeper recommendations.

[ 👻 ]

Perhaps predictably, they retire to the greenhouse.

It had been Jamie's place first. To an extent, it will always be Jamie's place. Long after Dani's gone, it will continue being Jamie's place—but, caught in the in-between, Jamie finds that she'll love nothing more than to call it _their_ place.

It's hers and Dani's in the fleeting minutes between two lives, in the fraction of time after a breath is expelled but before it is inhaled again, in the infinitesimal space between each second on a broken clock spanning hours, days, weeks, months before ticking again, if somebody remembers to replace the fucking batteries.

It had been Jamie's place first, but now it's hers and Dani's, and, someday, Jamie will want to stand between her nurseries of seedlings and remember.

Remember Dani Clayton.

After all, every living thing grows out of every dying thing. People leave more life behind them to take their place, and Jamie thinks she understands it now. Because here's Dani Clayton, dead in all but spirit, who has given her perhaps the most precious gift of all.

Even in death, Dani has given her love.

She's breached the walls that Jamie has built. When she leaves, Jamie will lose a part of her with it—but the hole will _remain_ , will allow light to continue pouring into her heart, a reminder if the gift Dani has given her.

When she leaves, Dani will leave more life behind her to take her place.

And Jamie will want to _remember_.

So she leads her into their greenhouse, laughs caught between desperate lips as Jamie's knees buckle against the couch and sits, Dani clambering onto her lap and weaving trembling fingers through her hair. Jamie's arms wrap around Dani's torso, anchoring them both together, fusing into a kiss laden with tender sighs and gossamer touches.

Dani's beautiful in the low, amber light of the floor lamp. Jamie leans back, as much as their tangle of limbs can allow, to commit each inch of her to her memory, because Jamie will want to remember the bashfulness on the edges of her lips, the contrasting pull of her daring blue eyes, the wash of pink warm on her cheeks, the glint of teeth as she smiles.

"Beautiful," Jamie whispers under her breath, mapping out everything that's Dani and holding each memory tight to her chest, because Jamie's life is full of moments both blooming and wilted but _this_ —Dani, beaming in her arms—she would want _this_ to be the only memory she can hold onto without hurt, without guilt, without grief, even when her whole world goes off-kilter. "You're beautiful, Dani."

"Sweet-talker," Dani murmurs in response, and Jamie's accompanying chuckle stammers away when Dani starts mouthing her next words along the angle of Jamie's jaw. "You're the one who looks like she wants to turn heads."

"Just one head." Jamie throws her head back as the kisses sweep down to her neck, teeth skating to where it meets her shoulder and lavishing the skin there. "You think Hannah noticed?" 

A snort of laughter, followed by a sharp, reprimanding bite, soothed soon after by the warm swipe of a tongue. "I can't believe you," Dani huffs playfully against her damp skin, and Jamie feels like she's on fire when Dani starts nipping along her collarbone. "You and your annoying—"

Jamie urges Dani's head up before crashing their lips together, humming delightedly when Dani's part around her own. A tongue presses between them, she isn't sure if it's even hers, and another moves against it with enough fervour to coax out a growing need in the back of Jamie's throat. 

Her hands tug on the hem of Dani's sweater, seeking permission, and when she feels Dani nod against her, she allows her fingers to slip underneath, tripping up the knots of Dani's spine and marvelling at the soft warmth of her skin. She feels each breath taken and released under her palms, each delighted tremble, each vibrating hum as they sink into each other. 

Jamie's hands move down, gently gripping the thighs on either side of her hips, and Dani shivers above her. "I love you," Jamie whispers against Dani's skin, lips coming up to press a fleeting kiss to the fluttering pulse in front of her. She repeats it, mumbles it against soft skin over and over, and every time she does so, Dani's fingers in her hair tighten further around the roots of her hair.

She likes the sting, the reminder that Dani can touch her, that she can touch Dani in return. After all this time, Dani's strongest when she's in Jamie's arms—Dani had explained her observation to Jamie once, how Dani could feel more like a person and less like a memory whenever they're hand-in-hand, but maybe Dani doesn't know that the opposite is just as true:

That Jamie's strongest when she's in Dani's arms, too.

That Jamie has looked tragedy in the eye and said, " _No, this is not meant to break me._

_This is happiness._

_This is love._

_This is Dani._ "

When Jamie resurfaces, head thick and heavy, Dani's eyes have gone dark and turbulent, electric—a thumb comes down to swipe at her lower lip, parting them gently to slip between slack teeth, causing her to groan. Dani's staring at her with such an intense ferocity that her heart trips between each beat, struggling to catch up.

"I love you," Dani says back, voice pitched low and imploring, and Jamie encourages her closer with a gentle nudge against her back, wanting to taste the sentiment on her tongue, wanting to feel it rattle against her teeth, wanting to breathe it in until it colours her ribs with the same blue of Dani's eyes—

" _Jamie?_ "

Jamie's lips meet air.

Someone had called her name, and Dani has winked out, likely startled by the sound. A quick sweep around the greenhouse reveals that she's tucked herself into the corner by her work desk, blushing a brilliant red and panting, and Jamie would be _frustrated_ by the intrusion if the sight doesn't make her smile endearingly.

"That's terrible timing," she hears Dani comment in a choked voice, hiding her face in her hands when the sound of approaching footsteps grow louder.

"There's always later," Jamie reassures with a wink, delighting when it's received with an even greater flush and a shy smile. "Right, let's see who our mystery visitor is—"

"Jamie!" The voice, louder this time, can only be Rebecca. A second later, the au pair pokes her head in through the door, and Jamie has something teasing ready on her tongue until she sees Rebecca's wide, stunned eyes. "Jamie— _Jamie_ , there's—god, I don't know how to say this, but—"

Jamie's on her feet in an instant, Dani quickly popping up beside her to place a worried hand on the small of her back. "Somethin' happen?" 

"There's someone on the phone for you," Rebecca answers, shaking her head in disbelief. "She says her name is Karen Clayton." 

[ 👻 ]

" _Hello?_ "

Karen breathes a sharp sigh in surprise, clutching the payphone tighter in her trembling hands. The voice is unmistakable—it's the woman at the park, rough and cursing and giggling with the children hanging from both her arms—and a part of her says that it _can't_ be, it can't possibly be, but the other part says that it is, that it _has_ to be, that it _must_ be:

For _Dani_.

Karen clears her throat and whispers, as soft as can be heard through the phone line, "Am I speaking with Jamie Taylor?"

The voice on the other side gasps, exhales, murmurs something she can't hear over the static but it vaguely sounds like confirmation.

"Are you—" Karen focuses all of her energy on shouldering her way through layers upon layers of doubt, needing to find an answer in the foreboding darkness. If anyone is the key to getting Dani back, it's her. It has to be. It _has_ to be. "—are you familiar with one Dani Clayton?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "hold" by vera blue
> 
> RIGHT JLSDFKAJSDKLJA i don't know what else to say except?? "!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
> 
> when i said shit's gonna start happening FAST, i meant. FAST. like. deadass FAST. remember when i said i don't know shit about pacing???? yah. as you can see: chaos. absolute fucking chaos.
> 
> but thank you all for sticking around anyway. even when my overthinking brain keeps being a Hater, y'all bring Light To My Life and i appreciate every single one of you. we're at the home stretch now guys!
> 
> also, for the readers for the runaway bride au! just to give you guys a head's up! we've once again hit the end of our posting queue, so if it takes a little longer for an update, please bear with me 🥺 irl i've been stretched pretty thin so it's been A Struggle, but i promise i'm not gonna leave you guys hanging with an unfinished fic! i happen to love you all too much for that 🥰


	16. and though we don't where we'll end up / i know we got to (trust in the wind, don't you give in / leave it all up to)

Fated, Dani thinks, holding Jamie's hand and reveling in the warmth enveloping her own fingers. 

It's the only thing she can think of, the only sensible explanation to a situation that has transcended sense altogether. To have lived, nearly died, and turn out alive in the end—she wonders how she could've ever known, without Jamie, that her body rests elsewhere in Bly, waiting for her return. All it had taken was Jamie seeing her for the pieces to fall in place, for her existence to be set on the right track to becoming whole again.

It's more than that, too.

More than the ultimate destination of being returned to where her body, a body she can't even remember, lies in fitful sleep, everything that has happened the past few months can only be a result of Jamie's presence in her life, of fate and destiny and love that surpasses the mundane. 

Because it's Jamie who can see her. Because it's the people in Jamie's life who can see her, too.

It makes sense, even when it doesn't. There are so many questions, still: questions like why, questions like how, but it takes only one look in Jamie's eyes for Dani to realise that, perhaps, they don't matter as much when Jamie's looking at her like she's loved her all her life.

Something has bound them before they even met, and Dani has never been a believer in the divine, but she believes in people and she believes in love and she believes in _Jamie_. If anything in the world can be attributed to being a cosmic power, it's this—their love, their connection, their bond. It's surpassed the limitation of the charted, the known, existing as a testament to the power of emotion, and Dani is euphoric that it's Jamie she's sharing it with.

It's as if all her life, she's been spinning without direction, but Jamie has captured the strings flitting in the wind and anchored her to something solid, something stable—she's free, still, coasting the air, but now she never has to fear flying too far that she'll lose herself in the storm.

She turns to Jamie then, tugging gently at their still-clasped palms until the groundskeeper halts from their walk to her truck and looks back at her in kind.

Without another word, Dani raises her hand and curls it around Jamie's jaw, cupping gently as she leans over and presses a kiss to her lips. A pleasantly surprised gasp puffs against her mouth, Jamie's hands flying to wrap around her waist, and Dani presses closer into her, wanting to feel every inch of Jamie's warmth on her skin.

"S'that for?" Jamie's question slurs warm against her teeth, one corner of her lips hitching up in amusement. Dani rolls her eyes and kisses it, humming delightedly when she can still feel the smirk underneath.

"For being you," Dani answers in a confessional whisper, nose brushing against Jamie's, nuzzling closer until their foreheads are pressed together. Each time Jamie's eyes flutter, her lashes brush against the rise of Dani's cheeks, tickling the warming skin there. "For being you with me."

"Flirt," Jamie goads, even as she's sucked into another kiss, longer and deeper than the first, fingertips splaying across Dani's back and causing a blissful shiver to rattle through her chest.

This is home, she repeats for the umpteenth time, the phrase already written across her skin that feels more there, more real the harder Jamie presses into it. With each breath she draws, the smell of flowers and earth and lavender fills her lungs and nestles deep in the cracks of her being, pulsing with warmth.

Dani never thought that anything weighing her down could be perceived as good, but here, with the brunt of Jamie's existence bearing down on her, Dani finds the sensation addicting, intoxicating—it's as if she can grow roots herself and settle here, nestled in Jamie's arms. 

But they have somewhere to be, don't they?

"I'm nervous," Dani admits when they're settled in Jamie's truck. Jamie's eyes are trained on the road, but a hand reaches over the console to squeeze hers anyway; it's just a quick pump before returning to the gearstick, but it's enough for Dani to find some semblance of strength within herself. "You said you saw her at the riverbank the other day? What did she look like?" 

"Gray hair, wrinkles," Jamie answers, nose crinkling when Dani pinches lightly at her arm. "S'not like I make a habit of ogling old ladies, Poppins. Afraid I only have eyes for one Clayton in this world."

Dani laughs a little at that, a soft sound that pushes past her lips before she can stop it, and not that she'd want to, not when the sound causes the nerves clinging onto Jamie's lips to drop entirely.

She leans over and kisses Jamie's cheek before settling into the passenger seat. 

Perhaps she feels a little guilty, not remembering what her mother looks like—or that she had a mother at all, in fact, but she knows it can't have been her fault.

Even now, facing the possibility of coming back to life, much of her fragmented past resides in the writhing darkness, eager to sink angry teeth into her fingers whenever she so much as tries to reach for them.

She hates that she can't remember, but… 

Dani still has memories she _can_ remember, memories of Jamie and Hannah and Owen and Rebecca and Flora and Miles, memories of the lake and the greenhouse and the river and the streets and the park and the bus stop.

The bus stop.

"Can we… can we go somewhere, before we head to the hospital?" 

"Anywhere, Poppins," comes Jamie's soft answer, allowing one hand to be pried from the gearstick so that Dani can map the lines of her palms, lines she's already memorised but never ceases to be fascinated by. 

"The bus stop."

[ 👻 ]

Time doesn't seem to have changed the bus stop any.

It's the same, sorry thing that Dani remembers: its walls are still covered in graffiti, its bench perpetually in a state of damp, its floor littered with garbage that she knows she can now pick up and set aside. 

The bus stop hasn't changed, no, but change happened here anyway, and as Dani sits on the bench, right in the middle of it, she's back to the Tuesday they met. 

"You saw me," Dani starts with a whisper, eyes glued to the opposite side of the road. She feels Jamie's weight settle beside her, arm pressed against her own, and she eagerly reaches out and curls her own around it, pulling Jamie closer. "You saw me, and it was like the first time I felt alive in so long."

She leans her head on Jamie's shoulder, feels Jamie rest her own head on top of hers in return.

"Every day, I felt so aimless and lost, and then you came and—and it was like everything clicked into place. It meant something. _I_ meant something." Dani feels the familiar thickness closing around her throat, but she pushes through the sensation anyway, wanting for everything to be said before she loses her nerve. "I just… I wanted to remember. I want to remember. I don't want to forget."

"Poppins, why would—"

"We don't know what will happen when I—" A bubble of a sob rips through her chest, unexpected and unbidden, and she clenches her teeth shut to focus on pulling breaths into her lungs, eyes shut when Jamie pulls her even closer and holds her. "—when I wake up. We don't know if I'll still be me."

"Why wouldn't you be?" The voice puffs against her hair, against her temple, and she feels Jamie cup her face and nudge it up. Jamie's eyes are warm and steady, sure-footed, and Dani can only latch onto that strength when her own fails her, needing to feel Jamie's certainty to empower her own. "You're Dani Clayton. Who else would you be?" 

"But the Dani there hasn't been through what I've been through." She feels tears warming her cheeks, wetting them as they fall from the haze in her eyes, but Jamie catches them with each soft brush of her thumb, rubbing them away before they can go further. Dani leans into the touch, nose pressing against a wrist, breathing in and memorising. "What if I wake up—what if I don't remember?" 

Her fingers seek out Jamie's wrists, clutching desperately at the sleeves of her shirt, and there isn't any space between them anymore but Dani wants to tug her even closer, as if the press of Jamie's body can overtake all the doubts festering on her skin.

"I don't want to forget you, Jamie," she gasps out, unable to keep her eyes open through the sharp sting of tears. Her body is trembling, quaking, but Jamie's hands are sure as they frame her jaw, rubbing, still, over her cheeks. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't, Dani," Jamie whispers back, words billowing against her lips when a forehead presses against her own. "You won't lose me."

"What if I do? What if I don't remember you?" Her hands are frantic now, curling in to splay against Jamie's chest, seeking out the heartbeat pitter-pattering against her sternum. She feels Jamie tug at her collar, bringing it down low enough for the tips of her fingers to press against warm skin, gasping wetly when she feels what she's looking for, the pounding of Jamie's chest. "What if I chase you away?" 

"You feel this, Poppins," Jamie murmurs against her lips, close enough that every word brushes against her. Jamie's hands fall away from her face to press against the back of her own, tighter against the heart beating rhythmically against her skin. "I'm not goin' anywhere. Whatever happens in that room, Dani, I'm with you. I'm in love with you. I'm _yours_."

Dani crashes her mouth onto Jamie's, and it's too salty and too messy and too desperate but it's what she needs. "I don't want to lose you," she says again through sobbed breaths and swollen mouths, each word loss in a kiss that communicates more than she can verbalise, and when Jamie's tongue slips between her lips, it's an answer to a question rattling against her teeth:

She's never been much of a believer, but she has faith in _Jamie_. 

"You have me, Dani Clayton," Jamie mouths against her, each word passed between sharp breaths as Jamie presses Dani's fingers deeper against the skin on Jamie's sternum, and she worries it might bruise but Jamie keeps her there anyway, heartbeat pounding against Dani's touch. "It's you, it's me, it's us. Us, Dani. It's us."

"It's us," she repeats back as Jamie's lips move to the corner of her mouth and stays there. "It's us."

"It's us," Jamie says with a nod that knocks lightly against her forehead. "I believe in us. We're a bloody miracle, really. Don't you think?" 

_A miracle._

Dani marvels at the word, at the way it settles on her tongue as she says it back.

She's never been much of a believer, but perhaps miracles do exist; perhaps the miracle is them and the profound love they have for each other, a love that pulses through Dani's body like a fire and burns away the tendrils of fear until she can mirror Jamie's confidence with her own. 

Jamie's right.

They've come this far already. They've already broken so many laws of reality. At this point, nothing is outside of the realm of possibility.

Anything can happen, Dani thinks, pressing her nose into Jamie's cheek and letting the back of her head be cradled by the hand Jamie threads through her hair, revelling in the warmth that envelopes her. 

Anything is possible with Jamie. Everything has been possible with Jamie. Everything will be possible with Jamie.

She's never been much of a believer, but miracles exist; she's certain now, and the miracle is them.

"I love you," she drags against the cut of Jamie's jaw, pushing further until she can press her face against the slope of Jamie's shoulder. 

They've been like this before, but when before Dani had been wrought with hopelessness, Dani now finds herself clinging onto the certainty Jamie shares with each pass of calloused fingers against the back of her neck. Her own are still pressed to Jamie's chest, trapped between their bodies, and she tucks the tips beneath the collar of Jamie's shirt and basks in it. 

Fated, Dani thinks again, as Jamie presses kiss after kiss into her hair, scattering them across the crown of her head before moving lower, peppering them across her forehead, on each eyelid, over each cheek, below her lips, an endless tide of kisses that sends her smiling, then grinning, then giggling as Jamie laughs back between each one. 

For every question about how any of this is possible, Dani finally believes there can only be one answer:

Fated, indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "anchor" by sophia black
> 
> GOD they are so fucking SOFT I CAN'T JFSDKLJFKDLSD brain empty, only damie!
> 
> anyway, yes, indeed, i did try to write their reactions when karen called them but honestly?? i won't lie here, i tried my damn hardest but it kept kicking my ass and nothing came out right and i couldn't... like, i couldn't verbalise the shock they went through, the surprise, the realisation, no words were coming so instead of trying to squeeze a chapter out of it for the sake of having it even if it's bad, i just decided to jump over it altogether. i'm very, very sorry for that, but i just didn't wanna assault you guys with something that isn't good JFDSKJSDKLJ
> 
> either way. are y'all finally ready for the NEXT CHAPTER???????? i bet you guys already know at this point what's gonna happen next. prepared? ready??? am I ready?? IDK!
> 
> also, like a total dork, i'm gonna take the time to advertise my new fic, because why not, i feel like some of you would like it:  
> SO! if you like the thought of jamie being in a B A N D, if you like the thought of dani absolutely being 10000% into it and also Surprisingly but Deliciously Bold, if you like the thought of jamie singing 70's~90's female rock songs, if you like the thought of smut that comes immediately at chapter 2, 3, and 4 and probably frequently after that, and if you like the thought of it somehow still being insanely sweet, the likes of which might very well rot your teeth???? check out my new fic below because i am Excited to show it to you all:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236842/chapters/71789667
> 
> EDIT: also yes, as you can see, i did, INDEED update two fics and posted a new one. that's because i love you all 🥰


	17. and with words unspoken, a silent devotion / i know you know what i mean (and the end is unknown but i think i'm ready / as long as you're with me)

When Jamie finds the hospital room, her breath leaves her body entirely.

There, tucked into white sheets surrounded by white walls, Dani Clayton sleeps—and here, beside her, swathed in a soft glow, Dany Clayton also stands, fingers searching for purchase along Jamie's sleeve. Same woman. Different places. She expects to be bewildered, but all Jamie can feel is the single, dogged determination to make things right, to give Dani the life that had been so unjustly taken from her. Now that she knows that Dani's alive, know that Dani can live again, it's the only thing that could ever matter. If there's any fear in her heart for what might come, such as the possibility of Dani not remembering her when she's been returned to her body, she will have to take it in stride.

Because this isn't about her. This has never been about her.

This has always been about Dani. Jamie was just the catalyst.

"Mrs. Clayton," she greets thickly, voice almost disembodied with focus as she steps further into the room, pulling Dani with her—Dani, who Karen cannot seem to see other than in her own bed, lost in the long shadows of sleep. It is, without a shadow of a doubt, the woman on the riverbank; she had been staring out into the distance before looking curiously at Jamie and, oh, she had stared and stared and _stared_. "I'm Jamie."

"I don't know how this is possible," comes Karen's throaty confession, voice tight from two years of waiting, _waiting_ , for Dani to stay awake longer than she's asleep, "but she keeps looking for you, talking about you. I'm tired of asking how. I just want my daughter back."

"Mom," Dani whispers beside her, struck by—by many things, Jamie reckons.

Struck by the fact that she's only now recognizing her mother.

Struck by the fact that she has another fragment of her past she'd lost before.

Struck by the fact that she's alive, _alive and breathing_ , in spite of everything having convinced her otherwise.

Jamie looks at her, at the Dani latched onto her wrist, at the slow, dewy blink fighting back tears, at the great tremble rattling her bottom lip, raw from worried teeth before parting to speak, " _Jamie_..."

Jamie can only nod, knowing in her heart exactly what she needs to do, moving ever so closer to the bed (each step should be hard, Jamie thinks, but instead they are easy, and perhaps that's a testament to the inevitability of it all)—and when she's close enough to hear Dani's fretful breaths in sleep, eyes moving rapidly under the cover of her lids to match each sweeping gaze of Dani beside her, she nods again. With a deep breath, she captures the fingers circling her wrist, grip ever so light and gentle and loving, sharing one last look with soft blue eyes before reaching for the hand, limp on the bed, touching the tips of Dani's fingers together and—

A sharp intake of breath, spilling into the lungs of Dani on the bed, two halves reunited, eyes flinging open with startling clarity and so, so brilliantly blue, different under the fluorescent lights and then familiar all at once. A scar marks the skin on the right side of her face, from the top of her hairline, narrowly missing an eye, down to the cusp of her cheekbone before veering to the side—stitches from the accident that Jamie reaches for and traces, thumb following the indentation reverently and gasping when she meets skin.

"Dani," she whispers, almost inquiring, almost seeking, and for a fraction of a breath, Jamie fears that this Dani might not remember her—but then Dani's face tips to the side, pressing into the palm of her hand, breath puffing warm against her wrists, and Jamie cries.

[ 👻 ]

A proposal. A truck. A hospital bed. 

Dani had been struck during her escape from a marriage proposal. The truck driver drove away before anybody could move, and by the time Dani was rushed to the hospital, nobody knew whether she would make it.

In all honesty, everyone had prepared for the worst—but Dani clung onto the last tendrils of her life and powered through one operation after another.

She'd never been the same, however.

Jamie's hands never leave Dani's thin and bony ones as they listen. Karen Clayton, a mom that Dani can certainly now remember, recounts the tale of months spent watching over her daughter, of coming to terms with the terrible mistake she'd made at the restaurant all those years ago, of leaving her life in America to take care of Dani, instead.

Karen explains how, long after most of her injuries have healed, Dani's awareness had failed to come back. Days and weeks and months were spent watching a white, sterile wall during the few minutes of consciousness she can muster. No reaction to doctors checking in on her. No reaction to tests and tubes and flaring tempers as Karen snapped at anyone who might, who _dared_ suggest that Dani will not be coming back. No reaction to the food Karen slipped into her mouth, the drink pulled through a straw. No reaction to her name being called, day in and day out, " _Danielle_." Then, " _Dani_."

Karen also explains how, on one seemingly perfectly normal Thursday night, Dani had spoken for the first time.

" _She saw me_ ," Karen repeats with a deep sigh, and Jamie turns to look at Dani with wide eyes, and Dani looks at her much the same. Karen must notice the unspoken words they communicate, because she lets out a soft, tired sigh and tips her head towards Jamie, asking, "That was her, wasn't it, Dani?"

While Dani's hands are weak from months of disuse, Jamie still feels her try. With a patient smile, she lifts their clasped hands and sweeps a kiss across Dani's knuckles, tender until the smallest amount of pressure wraps around her own.

Kissing Dani like this feels the same as much as it feels different. It's a new body, it's an old body—but it's Dani, through and through, and perhaps that's all that there is to it, isn't there?

"Yeah, that was Jamie," Dani answers thickly, voice thick and hoarse and barely-there, but Jamie cherishes it all the same.

Eventually, Karen continues with her story, taking generous breaks in between to give way for moments where all Jamie and Dani can do is stare at each other with a look of such exaltation that, Jamie thinks, should be sanctified. Because here they are, after days and weeks and months of fearing the inevitable end of a love they thought came too late, meeting for the very first time but knowing in their hearts that they've already met before.

They've already met before, and they've already loved before, and the rest is just...

"I love you," Jamie whispers quietly from her seat at the edge of Dani's bed, fluttering her lips across the back of Dani's hand, soft and fragile and real in her grasp. "Told you you'd remember, didn't I?"

"You did," Dani laughs, a sweet, warm thing that sends Jamie's heart spinning endlessly in place. "You did." 

Later, when Karen sets off to flag down a doctor and explain the sudden change (" _I'll say you've been recovering well_ ," she had said as she lingered by the door, " _I wouldn't really know how to explain it otherwise, but I'm happy_."), Jamie takes the time to finally press a kiss to Dani's lips, humming gratefully as she does when, even here and even now, they're able to fit so perfectly together that her lungs burn for a relieved sob.

"My breath's probably bad," she feels Dani murmur against her.

"Don't care," Jamie murmurs back, throat tight with more affection than she can bear, and kisses her again, kisses her like it's the first time—and she knows, in some ways, it is. She takes the time to do it slow, gentle, mindful of Dani's limbs as she cups her jaw and scratches soothingly at the skin below her ear. "Don't care at all."

When Karen does return to the room, she can only smile softly at the sight.

"I know I haven't been..." Karen has the grace to look disappointed in herself, easing back into the extra chair by the foot of the bed. "I know I wasn't—I'm sorry, Dani. For everything that I put you through. I'm sorry it took this happening for me to realise what I was doing to you."

"I know," Dani answers with a kind smile, and Jamie threads their fingers back together in reassurance. "I—It hurt, and it does still hurt... but I love you, mom, and I'm grateful you were here for me. Even when I haven't been the best conversationalist the past two years."

Karen chuckles at that.

"We have a lot to talk about. I hope... I hope you understand that I can't just pretend that what happened didn't happen," Dani continues gently, and Jamie understands what she means—understands that forgiveness is not easily given, but available all the same. "But I want us to try."

"That's all I want, Dani," Karen responds with a deep sigh of relief, turning up to flash them both a smile that's as much overjoyed as it is tired. "Maybe you can tell me what you've been up to?" 

Jamie shares a look with Dani and beams. 

[ 👻 ]

Naturally, it takes a while for Dani to be released from the hospital. For two days, they're caught between a whirlwind of papers and payments and Karen insisting she needs to clean the house before they can come back to it. 

Jamie spends her time with Dani, unsure whether she can even leave her side in the first place. 

Dani's body is weak, that much is certain—what little movement her body had been able to muster between bouts of consciousness hadn't been enough to keep all of her muscles healthy. It's clear enough from the daunting thinness of Dani's limbs, the slight gauntness to her face. Jamie isn't blind to the way Dani frowns when her limbs refuse to answer to her; her legs, especially, are the biggest issue, and Jamie aches at the sight of her frustration... but Dani will heal, as she has healed already, and Jamie will be there, as she has always been there.

Physical therapy, the doctor explains when he enters the room to check on Dani. He lists several people they can make appointments with, and Jamie quickly notes down his suggestions on her phone, eager to give them a ring in the morning. While she does so, she notices that Dani's looking at her—Dani, with eyes warm and misty from appreciation—and Jamie can't help but reach over and tuck a lock of hair back behind her ear, wholly uncaring that the doctor might see. To his credit, he doesn't seem to mind, instead offering his card to Karen and notifying them that he'll send a recommendation to whichever clinic they choose.

They go back to waiting for release, Jamie volunteering eagerly enough to help Dani through her meal. Tucking into Dani's side but mindful not to accidentally lean on her weakened body, Jamie curls one hand under a bowl of thick… something that _vaguely_ resembles broth, really… and keeps Dani's trembling hand steady when she tries to pull the spoonful to her mouth.

"Her arms have been easier to exercise when she's asleep," Karen explains as she watches them from the window, peacefully tucked into her own meal. "Her legs, however… we'll get there, I know. You're strong, Dani. You'll heal."

"I am," Dani agrees with a nod of her head, relenting the spoon-shovelling duties to Jamie when it's clear she won't be able to eat by herself without splattering her chest with soup. Jamie's all too happy to oblige anyway, taking care not to spill any herself on accident. "I am, and I will."

Jamie reaches over and wipes a drop of the vaguely-broth concoction from the corner of Dani's lips before pressing a smile to her cheek, chiming in with a soft but certain, "Absolutely correct."

When Karen leaves to return to sorting out Dani's release, Jamie sets the empty bowl aside before settling down fully across the hospital bed, head sharing Dani's pillow and fingers reaching out, tracing lines up and down Dani's arm and revelling in the reality that Dani is here—that Dani is here and so is she, and there's no other place Jamie would rather be.

"I know you probably already know this, Poppins, but I'm here too," she says softly, warming as Dani turns her head to look at her. _Beautiful like this_ , Jamie thinks, raising a hand to trace the scar with a gentle touch. "If you want company, that is."

A sheen of tears well in Dani's eyes, and Jamie leans closer to brush her lips where they track down the side of her face. One tear, then two, then more as Dani cries, and Jamie feels no rush of impatience, simply repeats her actions as salt blooms on her tongue, over and over until they finally roll to a stop, and then she kisses her fully when a sob puffs against her lips, wanting Dani to feel, not just hear or see, that she's with her.

Through it all, however long it takes, _she's with her_. 

Because she loves her. 

"Thank you," Dani gasps, nodding against her head. "I love you, Jaime. I—I want you here."

"And I want to be here," she consoles, reaching down and lacing Dani's pinky with her own. She brings it up between them, presses a kiss to Dani's knuckles, lets her lips hover against skin as long as she can, speaks into them, "I love you, Dani. You won't lose me, you hear? I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Dani's face melts into something overjoyed and loving, and Jamie's heart flutters at the sight. 

"Even when you have to help me in the bathroom?" 

"Of course, Poppins," Jamie laughs, pressing another kiss to the back of Dani's hand. "Even then."

Because she loves her.

And isn't that all there is to it, but love?

Love has given them a miracle, anyway.

[ 👻 ]

Karen's house (which, really, would have been Dani's and Eddie's house until Eddie flew back home) is simple and modest: a living room, two bedrooms, a lawn, and a bare garden bed waiting to be propagated.

"I couldn't bear to move back to America," Karen explains as Jamie pushes Dani's wheelchair into the foyer. The walls are cream, the floors a dark-washed wood, and there's a picture of what's likely a seven-year-old Dani on the table next to the staircase.

Jamie's eyes immediately land on it, lips turning up at the dirt-splattered cheeks.

"Mom," Dani whines when she notices the frame. "Why that, of all pictures? Jamie, stop looking at it!"

"S'cute, Poppins," Jamie chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to Dani's cheeks. "Makes sense you fell for a groundskeeper then."

"I was seven and obsessed with dinosaurs," Dani huffs, but there's a considerable amount of wistfulness and adoration in the breath she expells. "Thought I could dig up an apatosaurus in my backyard."

"Aren't those the—"

"Yep," Dani sighs. "Watched too much _The Land Before Time_."

"What, did ya think you can find him and bring him back to life?" 

"... Maybe?" 

"Fuckin' adorable, you," Jamie laughs, wheeling Dani further into the corridor.

"I've been sleeping in the guest room, so you can take the master," Karen explains, hanging her bag on the coatrack. "Jamie, I assume you'll be staying?" 

"If that's okay, yeah."

"Of course it is. Let me know if you need any help. I'll be making dinner." With a nod, Karen disappears off to the kitchen, and finally, mercifully, she and Dani are left alone.

"Wow," Dani says after a beat. Jamie arches an eyebrow curiously, asking for an elaboration. "It's just—my last memory of mom was her yelling at me at the restaurant. Seeing her now, like this, it's just—it's so different. Good, but different."

"Almost lost you, Poppins," Jamie hums quietly, leaning over to scoop Dani carefully into her arms. A laugh is puffed against her cheek, warming her flushed skin. "Doesn't have to mean she's absolved of everythin' she did before, but I think she's bein' genuine."

"I think so too." Dani leans against her shoulder, sighing. "Come to whisk me away, Jamie?" 

"Any time you need a'whiskin'," Jamie answers with a smile, ascending the staircase slowly.

Jamie helps her in the bathroom as promised, never flinching away from what helping with Dani's recovery might entail. If anything, Jamie's patient and considerate, wanting nothing more than for Dani to start being comfortable in her own body, a body she hasn't occupied in years. An embarrassed flush lingers on Dani's skin, but just as quickly as it rises, Jamie's shifting closer and pressing kisses to her cheek, reminder her that she'll stay, that nothing can tear her away. Nothing has been able to, before. It most certainly won't happen now.

Giving Dani a bath is an extremely cathartic experience for the both of them. Admittedly, this isn't necessarily how Jamie imagined she'd see Dani naked for the first time, but even when Dani's curled up in the tub with too-thin arms and scars littering her skin, Jamie's breath catches at the sight—beautiful, she thinks, murmuring as much when Dani ducks her head to her chest shyly.

"I look—"

"Beautiful," Jamie repeats, sincere and honest, pulling her eyes away from Dani's body to look deep into her eyes. "Your scars don't make you any less than, Dani."

"But..." Dani stills, waving a weak hand uselessly in the air between them, but Jamie captures it and sits on the edge of the bathtub, peppering a loving kiss to her wrist.

"I love you," she repeats, a twinkle in her eye, "And I want you. Don't think you realise how much, I reckon. I want you. When you're ready, I want to make love to you. I hope you know that."

"Well, I know _now_ ," Dani stammers out, turning red from her cheeks to her neck to her chest, and Jamie laughs and kisses her again, the sound humming between both their lips as she does.

"One day at a time, Poppins," she reassures, and then she's reaching for a bottle of lemon-scented shampoo and starting to rub it into Dani's hair, Dani's scalp, taking gentle care not to hurt but putting enough pressure to remind Dani, as she's been doing so many times before, that she's here, that she's _present_ , that they're together after all.

"One day at a time," Dani echoes back, letting her inhibitions fall away as she sinks into Jamie's touch and sighs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song "angels" by the xx
> 
> brain empty. only feelings.  
> two chapters left and there's only ever feelings.


End file.
